歌曲 | I Didn't Ask To Come |
歌手 | Goodie Mob |
专辑 | Soul Food |
下载 | Image LRC TXT |
作词 : Barnett, Burton, Gipp ... | |
Everyday somebody gets killed | |
What's the deal it's 1995 | |
And a nigga wanna live the type of life that people dream | |
I want things, a crib, a car, while living the life of a king | |
I know i take for granted at times for what i got | |
Still hustlin' and bustlin' | |
And now and then i stand a pop or two to come up | |
A steady battle through the days | |
Mamma think i'm wrong because i wanna get paid | |
The system aint given t-mo a chance | |
22 on the loose and black | |
Trying to get the noose a little slack around my neck | |
They making it hard for a brother to cope | |
It's still illegal to smoke cess cause they can't tax | |
I'm ready to go up shit until they give my freedom back. | |
Service to what, who | |
Damn, you got caught sought away out | |
The trait is getting full, calling up your pull | |
But pull aint got it. | |
I fell cold inside like | |
A man sleeping on pavement | |
Under the bridge of i-20 west | |
And stress on the face of the man | |
Cussing out the atmosphere with nobody close enough to hear | |
And who dat miss they fee | |
Cuz all they personal shit | |
Is sitting on the front lawn of apple tree | |
And for those who aint got take | |
Before the owner shows back up with the u-haul | |
Police you call | |
But wasn't no marshall there to watch your stuff | |
See i stand tall to this world | |
Like a kid walking rapping his rhymes to himself | |
A book on a shelf of many | |
Mc's seen them come and go | |
Style free with cool breeze | |
Til it's thick like dat fog | |
Stacking away my extra for a engine for tha hog | |
Dropping a point from the east | |
>from a location out tha trees | |
360 degrees. | |
Born into these crooked ways | |
I never even ask to come so now | |
I'm living in the days | |
I struggle and fight to stay alive | |
Hoping that one day i'd earn the chance to die | |
Pallbearer to this one, pallbearer to that one | |
Can't seem to get a grip 'cause, my palms is sweatin' ... | |
Niggas aint getting no where fast but, closer to the hearse | |
Why sunbeam burst off baskets nearly blinding me | |
Almost dropped ma end of the casket | |
Woodgrain and the only thang on my brain | |
Is where this coward hang | |
(swats) south west atlanta fountain lane | |
Forgot the batch niggah got thirty years | |
Lord forgive me and my foes i know | |
Revenge is best served when cold by those | |
Who feel no guilt | |
God don't care whether you got a spade or not | |
Aint no turning in your playing hand you was dealt | |
Better tighten up your belt man, always go with | |
The first instinct because, i don't make the rules | |
Oooh, you know how it is in these streets | |
Victims rarely get a chance to think twice | |
As he laid in the final resting place | |
He had such a peaceful expression in his face | |
My visions blurry from crying | |
But it aint hard to see that | |
At any time it coulda been me | |
It's about 90 degrees outside | |
But yet it felt like i'm froze | |
The ceremonies come to a close | |
I toss a rose but just can't seem to walk away yet | |
Damn i done ****ed around and got upset | |
But it aint nothing we can do | |
It's bigger than me and you | |
One day our time coming too | |
So aint no use in being sad | |
Leaving here was probably the best gift he ever had | |
We should be glad | |
Maybe his life was something | |
That he had to give to show me | |
That i need to be responsible about how i live | |
I won't complain about my pain | |
But i just aint gone let my niggas die in vain | |
So bean i'm gone make it for you | |
The cycle that these young black men keep goin through | |
I'm gone break it for you | |
And start takin care of me | |
And me consist of all my friends and my family | |
From now on, until i'm gone. | |
Born into these crooked ways | |
I never even ask to come so now | |
I'm living in the days | |
I struggle and fight to stay alive | |
Hoping that one day i'd earn the chance to die | |
Pallbearer to this one, pallbearer to that one | |
Can't seem to get a grip 'cause, my palms is sweatin' ... |
zuo ci : Barnett, Burton, Gipp ... | |
Everyday somebody gets killed | |
What' s the deal it' s 1995 | |
And a nigga wanna live the type of life that people dream | |
I want things, a crib, a car, while living the life of a king | |
I know i take for granted at times for what i got | |
Still hustlin' and bustlin' | |
And now and then i stand a pop or two to come up | |
A steady battle through the days | |
Mamma think i' m wrong because i wanna get paid | |
The system aint given tmo a chance | |
22 on the loose and black | |
Trying to get the noose a little slack around my neck | |
They making it hard for a brother to cope | |
It' s still illegal to smoke cess cause they can' t tax | |
I' m ready to go up shit until they give my freedom back. | |
Service to what, who | |
Damn, you got caught sought away out | |
The trait is getting full, calling up your pull | |
But pull aint got it. | |
I fell cold inside like | |
A man sleeping on pavement | |
Under the bridge of i20 west | |
And stress on the face of the man | |
Cussing out the atmosphere with nobody close enough to hear | |
And who dat miss they fee | |
Cuz all they personal shit | |
Is sitting on the front lawn of apple tree | |
And for those who aint got take | |
Before the owner shows back up with the uhaul | |
Police you call | |
But wasn' t no marshall there to watch your stuff | |
See i stand tall to this world | |
Like a kid walking rapping his rhymes to himself | |
A book on a shelf of many | |
Mc' s seen them come and go | |
Style free with cool breeze | |
Til it' s thick like dat fog | |
Stacking away my extra for a engine for tha hog | |
Dropping a point from the east | |
from a location out tha trees | |
360 degrees. | |
Born into these crooked ways | |
I never even ask to come so now | |
I' m living in the days | |
I struggle and fight to stay alive | |
Hoping that one day i' d earn the chance to die | |
Pallbearer to this one, pallbearer to that one | |
Can' t seem to get a grip ' cause, my palms is sweatin' ... | |
Niggas aint getting no where fast but, closer to the hearse | |
Why sunbeam burst off baskets nearly blinding me | |
Almost dropped ma end of the casket | |
Woodgrain and the only thang on my brain | |
Is where this coward hang | |
swats south west atlanta fountain lane | |
Forgot the batch niggah got thirty years | |
Lord forgive me and my foes i know | |
Revenge is best served when cold by those | |
Who feel no guilt | |
God don' t care whether you got a spade or not | |
Aint no turning in your playing hand you was dealt | |
Better tighten up your belt man, always go with | |
The first instinct because, i don' t make the rules | |
Oooh, you know how it is in these streets | |
Victims rarely get a chance to think twice | |
As he laid in the final resting place | |
He had such a peaceful expression in his face | |
My visions blurry from crying | |
But it aint hard to see that | |
At any time it coulda been me | |
It' s about 90 degrees outside | |
But yet it felt like i' m froze | |
The ceremonies come to a close | |
I toss a rose but just can' t seem to walk away yet | |
Damn i done ed around and got upset | |
But it aint nothing we can do | |
It' s bigger than me and you | |
One day our time coming too | |
So aint no use in being sad | |
Leaving here was probably the best gift he ever had | |
We should be glad | |
Maybe his life was something | |
That he had to give to show me | |
That i need to be responsible about how i live | |
I won' t complain about my pain | |
But i just aint gone let my niggas die in vain | |
So bean i' m gone make it for you | |
The cycle that these young black men keep goin through | |
I' m gone break it for you | |
And start takin care of me | |
And me consist of all my friends and my family | |
From now on, until i' m gone. | |
Born into these crooked ways | |
I never even ask to come so now | |
I' m living in the days | |
I struggle and fight to stay alive | |
Hoping that one day i' d earn the chance to die | |
Pallbearer to this one, pallbearer to that one | |
Can' t seem to get a grip ' cause, my palms is sweatin' ... |
zuò cí : Barnett, Burton, Gipp ... | |
Everyday somebody gets killed | |
What' s the deal it' s 1995 | |
And a nigga wanna live the type of life that people dream | |
I want things, a crib, a car, while living the life of a king | |
I know i take for granted at times for what i got | |
Still hustlin' and bustlin' | |
And now and then i stand a pop or two to come up | |
A steady battle through the days | |
Mamma think i' m wrong because i wanna get paid | |
The system aint given tmo a chance | |
22 on the loose and black | |
Trying to get the noose a little slack around my neck | |
They making it hard for a brother to cope | |
It' s still illegal to smoke cess cause they can' t tax | |
I' m ready to go up shit until they give my freedom back. | |
Service to what, who | |
Damn, you got caught sought away out | |
The trait is getting full, calling up your pull | |
But pull aint got it. | |
I fell cold inside like | |
A man sleeping on pavement | |
Under the bridge of i20 west | |
And stress on the face of the man | |
Cussing out the atmosphere with nobody close enough to hear | |
And who dat miss they fee | |
Cuz all they personal shit | |
Is sitting on the front lawn of apple tree | |
And for those who aint got take | |
Before the owner shows back up with the uhaul | |
Police you call | |
But wasn' t no marshall there to watch your stuff | |
See i stand tall to this world | |
Like a kid walking rapping his rhymes to himself | |
A book on a shelf of many | |
Mc' s seen them come and go | |
Style free with cool breeze | |
Til it' s thick like dat fog | |
Stacking away my extra for a engine for tha hog | |
Dropping a point from the east | |
from a location out tha trees | |
360 degrees. | |
Born into these crooked ways | |
I never even ask to come so now | |
I' m living in the days | |
I struggle and fight to stay alive | |
Hoping that one day i' d earn the chance to die | |
Pallbearer to this one, pallbearer to that one | |
Can' t seem to get a grip ' cause, my palms is sweatin' ... | |
Niggas aint getting no where fast but, closer to the hearse | |
Why sunbeam burst off baskets nearly blinding me | |
Almost dropped ma end of the casket | |
Woodgrain and the only thang on my brain | |
Is where this coward hang | |
swats south west atlanta fountain lane | |
Forgot the batch niggah got thirty years | |
Lord forgive me and my foes i know | |
Revenge is best served when cold by those | |
Who feel no guilt | |
God don' t care whether you got a spade or not | |
Aint no turning in your playing hand you was dealt | |
Better tighten up your belt man, always go with | |
The first instinct because, i don' t make the rules | |
Oooh, you know how it is in these streets | |
Victims rarely get a chance to think twice | |
As he laid in the final resting place | |
He had such a peaceful expression in his face | |
My visions blurry from crying | |
But it aint hard to see that | |
At any time it coulda been me | |
It' s about 90 degrees outside | |
But yet it felt like i' m froze | |
The ceremonies come to a close | |
I toss a rose but just can' t seem to walk away yet | |
Damn i done ed around and got upset | |
But it aint nothing we can do | |
It' s bigger than me and you | |
One day our time coming too | |
So aint no use in being sad | |
Leaving here was probably the best gift he ever had | |
We should be glad | |
Maybe his life was something | |
That he had to give to show me | |
That i need to be responsible about how i live | |
I won' t complain about my pain | |
But i just aint gone let my niggas die in vain | |
So bean i' m gone make it for you | |
The cycle that these young black men keep goin through | |
I' m gone break it for you | |
And start takin care of me | |
And me consist of all my friends and my family | |
From now on, until i' m gone. | |
Born into these crooked ways | |
I never even ask to come so now | |
I' m living in the days | |
I struggle and fight to stay alive | |
Hoping that one day i' d earn the chance to die | |
Pallbearer to this one, pallbearer to that one | |
Can' t seem to get a grip ' cause, my palms is sweatin' ... |