Song information On this page you can find the lyrics of the song Anticipation, artist - E.S.GDate of issue: 31.01.1994
Age restrictions: 18+
Song language: English
Anticipation |
| R.I.P. |
| to my niggas that’s dead and gone |
| Standin here blowed I dedicate this song |
| R.I.P. |
| to my niggas that’s dead and gone |
| Standin here blowed I dedicate this song |
| To my niggas in the grave and my niggas in the pen |
| Much love for you fools, see you when I get in |
| To my niggas in the grave and my niggas in the pen |
| Much love for you fools, see you when I get in |
| Come follow me now, and let me kick that old school flow |
| All my Gs who got popped or else dropped by a .44 |
| Tryna make ends, roll in Benz and stay tight |
| Get high with the crew, dick one or two down tonight |
| And stay true to the game, make yo cash the dash |
| But 5−0s and jackers all over yo ass |
| So niggas stay woke, don’t ever sleep when you creep |
| Cuz nowadays they pack AKs and shit’s gettin deep |
| Bustin bustin biggedy bustas keep yo pockets on fat |
| And to my homies who rest, every night I look back |
| And say «Damn, now why did my niggas have to die?» |
| To ease the pain I don’t cry, I fire that potent fry |
| And reminisce my life, I mean the whole 20 years |
| Cuz over the days, crime has paid for many of my peers |
| Some died from car wrecks, and Tecs to the necks |
| I know my mother anticipate — now will her son be next? |
| Funky funerals, sixty cars with lights and one cop |
| Rollin slow behind a hearse block to block |
| And uh, I couldn’t make it, I was feelin worse |
| To show my love for cuz, I pour some sip to the curse |
| We had tight times, we even had lose times |
| Sharin a brew, smokin a few, flashin up the deuce sign |
| Rollin thick as a bitch, with my whole fuckin click |
| Yep, cut for one another, down to take a nigga’s shit |
| Crankin cars, nothing barred, the shit stayed tight |
| Mobbin forty ounce, slobbin nearly every night |
| Much goes to those, I’m givin it up, I mean my props |
| From Charlie Brown to Shawn Miles and to my steppops |
| I got nothing for love and it’s gettin strong |
| I keep my head up even when the shit’s goin wrong |
| And ain’t no use to me puttin out my fry |
| Sometimes I anticipate — now will I be the next to die? |
| And now it’s 93, and shit’s still illegal |
| So I gave in my Tec for a .44 Desert Eagle |
| Still got memories of my homies in the past |
| So I look high and ask the Lord if I last |
| And if not, when I drop six feet deep |
| Put a forty in my lap and in my mouth a swisher sweet |
| And let the dead rest, and then close my eyes |
| And if my niggas ain’t there, then I just might rise |
| And bust a couple of caps the spirits from hell |
| See, a nigga might be dead but I got dope to sell |
| So niggas don’t forget for y’all to bring the fry |
| Cuz everyone’ll cry and say «Damn — this nigga had to die» |