Текст песни Kaotic Sypher f Bogus, True, P.I.Crazee - Tight Situation
Kaotic Sypher f Bogus, True, P.I.Crazee - Tight Situation слова песни
Intro:(Gettin closer to God......)(Gettin closer to God......)(Gettin closer to God in a tight situation now)Now what do I do? I got nowhere to turn and run and hideOften contemplate suicideon my mind, but it keep me thinkinSteady drinkin, the liquor, got my shit gettin thickerAnd it seem my time on Earth is gettin shortTwo puffs left on my last NewportLock the Glock and the 9, lock one in the chamberDanger, danger, pull the purse off a strangerWhile each step walks the fine line between pleasure and painIt causes the brain to remain sane>From questions learned from lessons dailyEvil tries to persuade me into contemplation if I`m crazyProbably not, but who gives a damn if I shotI can end this bullshit in just one clockHold the Glock, it`s still ticks left on the clockIt ain`t no crock, so I shop in a state of shockLookin for a J-O-B, but I can`t seehow I`m to survive, on $4-25?I`s, don`t know what to doI keep paging ol` G-O-D, seems like I can`t get thruWalk the night streets with my piece as my peaceShaky face make me rethink, all these thoughts bringin heatto the dome, makin niggas well, really will prevailIs it better in hell or psycho in a jail cell?Well I can`t tell, hearin noises, turn to voicesI`m seein choices, none of mine rejoice thisAnother day in the life of a crookAs I graze in the pages of the Good BookBreak:(Gettin closer to God.....) (x4)(Gettin closer to God in a tight.....)(Gettin closer to God in a tight situation)It goes a BRRRREA, stick em, HOT HOT HOT, sick emPut em up, I gots the 9 and a ski mask, that`s how I dick emNever lag, black denim pants sagAin`t nothin personal so put the personals in the black bagLie down wit`cha hands behind ya backDon`t neighbour roll cos the party`s in the actJust in case you`re wonderin who`s the boss?I`m well hung to keep the shit strung like some dental flossCos the streets ain`t nothin but a (tight situation)In a 24-hour occupationJust last night, a brother tried to rob ya blind from behindwhen I came up the stairs, I was stuffed waist-deepHe use ta wear black sweatshirt and black skullieNow he`s lyin face down in a pitch black gullyShit`s no joke, the streets is like pneumoniaYou can`t shake the feel when the steel runnin up on yaLike u-hoo, Uncle Sam?Where the hell`s the mule and the forty acres of landthat you promised to my ancestors when we was emancipatedClaim to set us free but we was still segregatedNow all thru this nation, got these black folks dropped and shamedThey locked in chains but now you know it`s on againCos we`re comin at`cha just like marketsEverytime we spark this gun, don`t wanna run up on yaAnd grasp this noose around your neckThen hang you from the tallest tree up in them projectsGot our women with no welfare cheques, powder milk and butterWhile our friends be on the corner sellin shit, killin each otherNiggas on tough, none tough, holler if you hear meGotta million black folk ready to march down on D.C.Interlude:Y`all brothers better realise that in the `95, it`s either homicide orgenocideIf y`all can`t find nothin to live for, find somethin to die for, niggaAnd that`s on the realTakin a walks thru the streets of my city, yoThe Buddha fillin my eyes, it ain`t pretty thoughBlushed nose mockin the spots on the concreteIt`s residue from an earlier drug meetConcrete jungle, that`s what they call itWell each day we`re raged, a-palledCos what it is, is a concrete hellAm I livin in a house or a goddamn jail cell?Bars on my windows, bars on my doorsShots ring out and I`m divin on the fuckin fllorWhat in the hell kinda way is this to live, yo?This can`t go on, somthin`s gotta giveBreak