Song information On this page you can find the lyrics of the song Ernee, artist - Cj Fly. Date of issue: 11.10.2021
Age restrictions: 18+
Song language: English
Ernee |
| You don’t even look like a man, you know what I’m saying |
| So you don’t really need the money but at the same time |
| It’s so hard growing up in the hood, people don’t really understand |
| Everybody got their mom’s and they pops and they got they catholic schools |
| And they got their brothers and their little dog Scruffy |
| In they backyard, but it’s not like that in Brooklyn |
| This is dedicated to all my ghetto men, and lady friends |
| Those in the hood that ain’t doing what they should |
| And I recall this one, the incompatible capital? |
| Yo ever since I was a snot-nose |
| I grew up close to Kosciusko |
| Got mad ho’s that got mad low if you had known |
| Same wars sneaking through back doors with they backs on |
| My back yo, bet you got played like banjo’s |
| I admit it, I’m an asshole |
| Mess your day up like bad jokes, or bad Joe no bad shows |
| I think it’s best you know five o’s, El Diablo |
| Keep one eye closed till your shine grows your fine soul |
| The pines roll and my minds blown |
| I meditate the elevated to another fucking time zone |
| Fly in the astral planes, but still I have to train |
| If no one gets the picture then that must mean that you can’t be framed |
| I know you think that life is sweet, sweet |
| Not in these streets, streets |
| When you see blood up on the concrete |
| Been working on these projects |
| And these projects where I’m from |
| Bed-Stuy, Brooklyn |
| Life ain’t promised where I’m from |
| I’m from the slums where you don’t run son |
| Live by the gun, die by the gun |
| Some catch the street smarts and some dumb |
| Some of them feel me but some numb |
| All I can say is, one love to the young thugs getting their lungs strung |
| Ever since a kid all I wanted to do is play |
| Got a little older, found out about the game |
| Ain’t care about the fame all I wanted was a name |
| Dreaming big ever since I was a shorty |
| Ever since a kid all I wanted to do is play |
| Got a little older, found out about the game |
| Ain’t care about the name all I wanted was the fame |
| Dreaming big ever since I was a shorty |
| They been like 'Dirty this is real life shit,' oh yeah |
| I’m just a cool laid back nigga, no beach chair |
| Dirty San from Brooklyn, what is not clear |
| And my people interfere because they’re not scared |
| Little kids kick rocks with miss-matched socks |
| It hurt to kick it, drinking quarter-waters |
| Money is liquid |
| Been looking for the golden ticket |
| Them April showers fooled me |
| All month living gloomy |
| Flowers may never bloom |
| Black petunia, tune your radios into the radio-activist |
| Throwing up half a… (CJ Fly: Chill) |
| I been living on the edge |
| My legs are dangling off of a ledge |
| Fuck school, I seek knowledge |
| God mind, it takes one to know who to acknowledge |
| Got these suicidal thoughts like Christopher Wallace |
| That’s that, do or die mentality |
| Women that call me sweet, end up with bad cavities |
| Somebody call the pope, Beast Coast about calamity |
| Just cause you’re my neighbour |
| That don’t mean that we’re close |
| Eyes open, look close into the future |
| To my mexicanos truchas or Medusa |
| You gone face these streets flooded with snakes and leaches |
| And they can suck me, I been corrupted |
| By the creaming peaches, I’m mutant leaving em' speechless |
| Looking for the top but we don’t know where the peak is |
| Fuck your weakness, your weekend, 47 speaking |