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Текст песни Smif-N-Wessun - Home Sweet Home

Smif-N-Wessun - Home Sweet Home слова песни

[Tek]This is the story of a place, that we call homeWhere the kids pack heat when it`s time to roamEverybody`s on the scramble, life`s a gambleHoppin on the white horse, tryin to get a handleOn the fast pace that we call the last raceStep wit precaution when you enter this placeWe got a spot on every block that makes ya dreams come trueJust come correct wit the snapses or ya dooDon`t come cryin broke, still tryin to cop the dopeWhat parts of no, do not you understand broWe can`t afford to take shorts or be playing sportsEmpires need to be built, mack 10`s boughtOr even caught for them deceased ass hustlersAnd we still got the pound for ya living muthafuckasWhat goes around comes back to the rootsSee you at the revolution and Crooklyn, true[Chorus]We live in Brooklyn babyWe try to make it babyWe gonna make it babyWe live in Brooklyn baby[Steele]Another day, another dollar deadPigs rushin the crib to catch a collar now I`m fedWhat the face now, me and my people`s taste crownStayin face down, while K-9`s sniffs aroundWhat they found was irrelevant, the weed cuzThey was sent to represent and cause a ruckus amongst usNow I got more pigs rushin we, handcuffin meTakin hold of we, in the custodyFor blushin in, rasta boy restin in peaceAfter going through the bullshit, we in releaseTo hit the streets, where the war still off for all of y`allCuz they kept rule locked behind the wallNo time at all, no fake, no jacksPerhaps when the gat spins, niggas won`t even know what happenI`ll be glad when my man come homeCuz in the zone muthafuckas grab ya chrome[Chorus (with Tek shoutin out)][Tek]The eye three time, as lead transpireCurrency change, change from yours to mineGreenbacks talk bullshit, floats on waterPager goin off, call comin from headquartersI was told if the secret code appearsIt means some bwoy want dead, prepare for warfare[Steele]Fuck the truth, we bringin the noose for ya loose talkSo think smart, or rest in parts if ya do startI fucks wit, the poor, so fuck being richWord is bond, there`s a muthafuckin war goin onStand strong, on ya own two, mistaOr come confront the grim ripperBlack hoodie on, black dusty fatiguesBloody red afro, puffin on the black weed (on three)He lurks in the shadow, so when you sleep in the battleThat`ll be, and tell ya punk lib to tattle[Tek]Salute, to each and every hood label truthDoin what you gotta do to bring in the lootHuh, the time has come for armageddionGive nurture to your seeds, and load up ya guns, dunnNow catchin vibes, that somethin ain`t rightGettin little hits, stomach fillin up tightDamn, these little nappy head cheap trait bastardsRun around town wit the cronz trynna blast shitAin`t nuthin sweat like the dark streets of BedstuyCreepin population, endin up in C.I.[Steele]Take a ride through the Flatbush sideSee the dred and he caught for support, hit me off wit the lyeNow slide, through the ville, death row, say helloTo the fam that stick to K.I.M. that`s plannedToward the east, somethin`s goin onSo burn the buds, and all my people in Medina stay strong[Chorus to fade]

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