| First fight came home with a bloody nose
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| Second fight same day pops like dont step back in this yard if u dont take
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| control
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| Or deal with me u need make it known
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| I aint raise a punk U better hold ur own
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| I walked back slow and snuffed Rahmel from behind
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| Closed my eyes Still swinging hard fire welled up inside
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| Power bitter to the taste
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| Swollen my face felt fried
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| Winded tell me got this
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| Learned to walk with my pride
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| Must Earn your right to survive
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| Rite of passage
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| What was foreign grew familiar with time
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| Too young to process particulars
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| My views unrefined
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| Innocent mind
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| Before neighbors was truly ready to die
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| Dyno bmx spoke chrome cycle kept spinning
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| Acts of violence im a victim and a wide eyed witness
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| Block Yellow tape ballistics
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| South jamaica 88 fever murder rate statistic
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| Growing Older higher stakes been normalized by repetition
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| Fall in line late for the wake
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| Henny pour it to me straight
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| Moms reminded me im different
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| From these Miseducated henchman
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| Murdering my brother not gangsta but mostly desperate acts of submission
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| Throw ur hands up in the air
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| Strays Whistled from a distance
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| Scratched serial standard issued
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| All night prayer, tears, pass moms a tissue
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| (Woods)
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| Dumb out/stupid nice
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| Waiting For Superman
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| classroom fulla criptonite
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| Juvenile Hell
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| The Trife Life
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| Ossie Davis been dead
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| now they hand you gun and knife/said
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| Do The Thing Right
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| bannana in the tailpipe
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| eyes squeezed tight squeezing off
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| on a-alikes with the Armalite
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| born yesterday but hey
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| they was up all night
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| looking for niggas only found theyselves
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| pulling on triggers
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| spot Enemy outside his home
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| let fly like Predator drone hell to pay
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| like predatory loan
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| Rule Of the Bone did the Regents off the dome
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| studied the streets
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| prepaid the phone hand a lil' nigga the heat
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| you don’t really want to know how it go
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| like ground beef
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| a mother’s grief
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| overdubbed on top some hot beats
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| shots cheap/foot chase in Rock Creek
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| I’m wired
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| can’t sleep behind a fade someone caught last week
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| King of the Wild Things
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| made it home for supper
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| You should see the other kid
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| he’s a dead motherfucker |
Song information On this page you can read the lyrics of the song Where the Wild Things Are , by - Armand Hammer. Song from the album Race Music, in the genre Рэп и хип-хоп