Paroles de la chanson Black Males par Westside Boogie
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Paroles de la chanson Black Males par Westside Boogie
[Boogie]
It’s no winning if you stuck in a losing situation
Thirsty
[Boogie]
Uh, look at us black males
Trapped well, crack sales, uh
If that fails, you know just how them rat’s tails
Your fat bails, watch these niggas turn to Maxwell
And start singing, okay, sounding like this sample
Problems we can’t gamble, no, problems we can’t handle
It’s no winning if you stuck in a losing situation
Thirsty
[Boogie]
Uh, look at us black males
Trapped well, crack sales, uh
If that fails, you know just how them rat’s tails
Your fat bails, watch these niggas turn to Maxwell
And start singing, okay, sounding like this sample
Problems we can’t gamble, no, problems we can’t handle
Tryna grip this shit, in the midst of shit, got niggas pissed as shit
We see the light, but we can’t get the shit, cause niggas flick the switch, shit, woo
Niggas switching to get rich, somehow I never switch, though
Lately, I been boxed in like boxes in them warehouse stock
And I guess Stockton ain’t really wanna pass my momma check
To the mailman, uh, and that’s hell, fam
That’s why I, uh, that’s why I
That’s why I be screaming “Fuck what niggas think!”
It’s sin up in the breeze and we inhale it, we ain’t saints, uh
[Epic Must Die]
We see the light, but we can’t get the shit, cause niggas flick the switch, shit, woo
Niggas switching to get rich, somehow I never switch, though
Lately, I been boxed in like boxes in them warehouse stock
And I guess Stockton ain’t really wanna pass my momma check
To the mailman, uh, and that’s hell, fam
That’s why I, uh, that’s why I
That’s why I be screaming “Fuck what niggas think!”
It’s sin up in the breeze and we inhale it, we ain’t saints, uh
[Epic Must Die]
I just want niggas to listen
[Epic Must Die]
Maaan, he 25, he doing life
Ten years of crime, started with a dime
His son just turned 6, he ain’t never seen his pops
He only seen some pics, shit, his pops ain’t seen him
They the spitting image, both of they fathers missing
I hope he grow up different, y’all probably think I’m tripping
Spitting all this sentimental shit, but really it’s realistic shit
That’s how it be, the shit is deep, touching me, you feel this shit?
How many niggas think a gun make ‘em bigger?
[Epic Must Die]
Maaan, he 25, he doing life
Ten years of crime, started with a dime
His son just turned 6, he ain’t never seen his pops
He only seen some pics, shit, his pops ain’t seen him
They the spitting image, both of they fathers missing
I hope he grow up different, y’all probably think I’m tripping
Spitting all this sentimental shit, but really it’s realistic shit
That’s how it be, the shit is deep, touching me, you feel this shit?
How many niggas think a gun make ‘em bigger?
A set make ‘em stronger? A rag make ‘em realer?
A homie for a homie, but revenge ain’t gon’ finish that
Black-on-black to wearing black at funerals, so remember that
Before you pull a trigger, that’s not another nigga
Nah, that’s your brother, you still gon’ kill ‘em, huh?
Over what? Probably something stupid
Typical black males, man, what the fuck is we doing?
[Boogie]
Yo, is this Halloween or these niggas just phonies? Uh
Just look at all these snakes, they dressed up like your homies, uh
A homie for a homie, but revenge ain’t gon’ finish that
Black-on-black to wearing black at funerals, so remember that
Before you pull a trigger, that’s not another nigga
Nah, that’s your brother, you still gon’ kill ‘em, huh?
Over what? Probably something stupid
Typical black males, man, what the fuck is we doing?
[Boogie]
Yo, is this Halloween or these niggas just phonies? Uh
Just look at all these snakes, they dressed up like your homies, uh
And free my niggas, we got problems we can’t pinpoint
My pen point me straight to the pen that points get you in
The wind push me straight to the point, what’s my point?
My niggas pinned down, writing to this pen pal
Really ain’t no point to that shit, smoke a joint to that shit
And we yelling but we silent, ain’t no voice to that shit, man
My pen point me straight to the pen that points get you in
The wind push me straight to the point, what’s my point?
My niggas pinned down, writing to this pen pal
Really ain’t no point to that shit, smoke a joint to that shit
And we yelling but we silent, ain’t no voice to that shit, man
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