Song information On this page you can find the lyrics of the song Time, artist - 8Ball.
Date of issue: 18.05.1998
Age restrictions: 18+
Song language: English
Time |
3 kids started off being friends to the end |
Growing up in a time that turned boys to men |
Carlo was the slick one, the little girls liked him |
And all the little niggas in the hood, wanted to fight him |
But Carlo, main nigga James wasn’t having that |
James had boxing game and left niggas laying flat |
All of us 12 or 13 at the time |
Drinking cheap wine, and smokin' brown bag dimes |
I was into writing rhyme in class at school |
Waitin' for the bell to ring so we can go and shoot pool |
One day, some up the block niggas came talking shit |
Bragin' on they clique, and how many crews they click with |
Tryin' to start some extra clip shit, them niggas so for real |
James so cool to get with fucked his whole grill |
Carlo, that slick nigga pulled a 22 |
They got some heat too, what the fuck we gonna do? |
Bust and hit the backdoor, now we in the alleyway |
Running, heart pumpin' fast tryin' to see another day |
Blessed to escape the mayhem |
Time and time again, we escaped the mayhem |
Yo, whats been goin' on dogg? |
Man, that shit goin' down dogg |
What’s goin' down with you? |
I done heard you got rich huh? |
You don’t fuck around with us in the hood no more huh? |
You know it’s funny how shit changes, right? |
How life can loosen up a friendship that’s so tight |
Years after all the horseplay and misdemeanor crimes |
Us being homeboys, didn’t seem so fine |
Years of just fuckin' around, rappin' in the neighborhood |
Found me with a gold album, tryin' to live my life good |
Carlo got popped with 8 keys in a minivan |
Somewhere in Tex, Arcan, doin' about a hundred man |
That nigga James, straight cutthroat on them snouts |
Robbin' dope boys, gettin' what the fuck he want |
The game changed, now you gotta play with death |
Now I have to ask myself |
Do you remember your childhood, back when |
You didn’t have to have loot, to have friends |
Now it’s all about your benjamins, your cash flow |
And if a nigga fuck with that, he better know |
Time changed everything, between us |
And if I see you in the streets, I gotta bust |
You used to be a friend to me, one I could trust |
Now if you see me in the streets, you better bust |
One day, I’m on my way to the studio, ya dig? |
Pick up a zip of hay, after I drop off my kids |
Flippin' through the hood, seen James with his little crew |
Blue rags up, in a drop top Malibu |
Bloodshot eyes, I could smell the dip burnin' |
Bumpin' DJ Squeeky, flashin' what the earnin' |
He asked about Carlo, well what can I say? |
I write him when I get a chance, but I pray for him everyday |
Lookin' at my ride, tellin' me nigga you comin' up |
Fuckin' with that rappin' stuff, I guess you just forgot about us |
Nah cat, it ain’t like that |
I gotta eat, that’s when James clicked and pulled out his fuckin' heat |
I hit the gas, he kept bustin' till the clip was empty |
17 shots, and didn’t nothin hot nip me |
Quickly, grabbed my shit and opened it up wide |
The nigga on the passenger side instantly died |
James bailed, I gave chase, fuck the consequence |
If I let him live, he’ll start another incident |
12 years ago, I never thought I’d see the day |
Shit would ever be this way |