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Текст песни Low Profile - How Ya Livin`

Low Profile - How Ya Livin` слова песни

(The beat is dope)(Yup)(Word to the mother)(Ah yeah)(And it goes a little somethin like this)(Good God)(The beat is dope)(Yup)(Word to the mother)(And it goes a little somethin like this)[ VERSE 1: W.C. ]How ya livin, a brother kill another for a colorNow his family`s forced to sit and sufferGang violence strikes again, the sound of a triggerNews at 11, now it`s one less nigger, they figureSelf-destruction, bro, you`re goin lowHow can you kill a person you don`t really even know?In jail you played hard until one slapped you sillyTurned you over like a girlie and rode you like a sissyTrapped behind bars in the middle of nowhereDoin 10 to 20, braid another brother`s hairOn the streets you was dope, you wasn`t a jokeNobody could cope, you was the king of the dopeShoot a brother in a minute, man, that was your dutyBut now you`re in jail, just givin up the bootySpread em, I`ma show you what it`s like in a jailI kick reality, this ain`t a crickett fairytaleYou said you had heart, homeboy, how do you figureCan you prove it without keeping your finger on the trigger?You`se a punk, a peon, a buster, bound to runNever usin your fist, always grabbin a gunTrigger-happy with the gat, brain stiffer than a manakinShot an old lady, but you claim it was a accident?Drop the sawed-off, you must be illinI got a question, homes, how ya livin?[ VERSE 2: W.C. ]The beat is dope, so I come off smooth, no need to yell itNow what I seen on the streets, I gotta tell itSmokers on the corner at the rock house shackTryin to scuffle up some money for a 10 piece crackAnd this is critical, pitiful, life has become more difficultChildren on the corner holdin automatic pistolsTaught and trained at a young age to kill anotherBut the bad thing about it is, we`re killin each otherBrothers killin brothers over man-made materialIt`s a like a epidemic, better yet venerealOnly if you knew that we was dominant originalWe`d be prepared mentally as well as physicalSome say to make it though, it`s gonna take a miracleBut they can`t hold you back, brother, when you`re spirtitualDrop the 40 ounce, you must be illinYo Aladdin, break it down while I ask em how they`re livinYoLet me tell you bout this crackhead I know[ VERSE 3: W.C. ]Booby was a crackhead smokin that dustLike a fool, he was a sucker I never could trustUsed to let him in my house, he didn`t need no permissionUntil my goddamn VCR came up missinSprung on the pipe like a fish on a hookYo, Booby got labelled as a neighborhood crookSeen him with a color TV in his handWalkin down the streets sparked, lookin for the dopemanSkinny as hell from just hittin the pipeLost his job, his two kids, the beautiful wifeHe`d sell his mother if you gave him a chanceLong as Booby got a piece of crack in his handsHey yo, you know what`s sad, or should I say it`s a shame?The way c-r-a-c-k destroys the brainThink - somebody wanna see these thingsAnother dumb brother just smokin cocaineSuckin up crack until your lips turn purple>From rehab to rehab, you`re runnin in a circleIt`s mandatory I touch this categoryThat`s why I made it simple, self-explanatoryIt shouldn`t take long for me to state what`s on my mindWhy should I sit and write a 10-minute-long rhyme?Hey yo, drop the 40 ounce, you must be illinSo I conclude this rhyme with how ya livin?

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