Song information On this page you can find the lyrics of the song Soul Searching, artist - Above The Law. Album song Legends, in the genre Рэп и хип-хоп
Date of issue: 23.02.1998
Age restrictions: 18+
Record label: Tommy Boy
Song language: English
Soul Searching |
Seems never, no hesitation for my frustration |
I feel the years that i’m facin', so it’s here money track, i’m lacin' |
With that Gothic lifestyle that i’m used to, voodoo, |
Bent back with a bag of gumby and the hindu. |
Twelve playas, way, beyond control |
Lookin’for two or three bustas that done sold they soul |
See my name is K.M.G. |
(Whoop whoop), do ya know me? |
I think ya lightweight like your see-through homies |
Hold this, while I smoke this, make you focus on the pistol &the chrome |
And the homie fly as, California born. |
We shake down, at the Calabasas home, |
And when we throw a gathering, ohh baby it’s on. |
See we, shake off the bustas, we got the cops checkin', |
Come down on imitators with they fake jail records. |
Yea, we use our method, our soul searching method, |
And when we on the block after dark you might catch it. |
Disrespected? |
Never that. |
Cali West Coast bellin', |
Check out all my homies with they colors (Blue and red, much love) |
Mi amigos, I got my homies daring ya, |
Moody lifestyle mid from the Bay Area. |
We like anderson, come ask for free, |
Soul searching with that nigga K.M.G, (K.M.G.) |
Soul searching with that nigga K.M.G. |
homie, (K.M.G.) |
You don’t wanna fuck with me… |
Why can’t you see the light? |
(Yukmouth) |
Nigga, I was raised in a house full of dope fiends, |
Admiring ballers who sold cream, my street dream |
Like Nas, mansion and four car garage, |
Keep trust in God with mob niggas in my enterouge. |
You see that’s why could be for broads, |
I learned that from my pops when we used to mob the eldora-do, |
Through the muthafuckin’projects, I guess it’s in my blood, |
Sometimes it seems like i’m next, to be a thug. |
And end up selling drugs like my father, |
Or like my partner on the block, man, when I holler, squattin impalas |
Slanging rocks, man, it don’t stop, |
Keeping the glock up in the cut cuz niggas know I, get sho’stopped |
For yo bread, niggas drop dead, of hot lead, |
Shot him up that’s what the cops said, a code red |
Call the muthafuckin ambulance, |
Could’ve ran but then again he never had a chance, |
For soul chasing… |