| I’m broker than a bitch and I’m sick and tired
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| I’m feelin' like I’m walkin' in fire
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| I’m feeling like I’m Jo Jo Dancer
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| Before I expire, can I get rich prior?
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| In Longbeach them bullets whizz by ya
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| Clapper ain’t a rapper still it spit fire
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| It ain’t no jobs; |
| nobody gets hired
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| So to escape it junkies get higher
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| Six in the morning hustling on the corner
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| Tryna get out that abyss, I was born in
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| Switch me with Foreman, 'Rumble In the Jungle'
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| Piss me, you’re gonna get mixed with no warning
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| Piss poor, got my school clothes, from the thrift store
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| Just a ghetto boy, like the fifth ward
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| So I dropped out thinkin' this war, nigga get yours
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| Cash over bitches true religion
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| You see what’s going on through the kitchen
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| We steppin' on crack
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| Same drug broke ya mother’s back like the superstition
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| Me and the boys is, sellin' poison
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| Like we three members of New Edition
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| You said we’ll die or get threw in prison
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| If I make a song about it who would listen…
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| I’m walkin' down the street, nigga broke as fuck
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| Lookin' for a deuce, tryna patch up
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| But the change is loose so every cent counts, no doubt
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| I was walkin' down the street
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| With my nigga 'Skinny Kenny' on my side, bitches passing by
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| Niggas won’t let a nigga ride so he stuck, that’s why
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| I’m walkin' down the street, tryin' to catch the bus
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| Just to catch the train, headed to Lyon
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| Tryna do my thing, cause I just can’t stop, I can’t stop
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| And it’s real, as real it gets
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| I struggled for years, just to breathe in this bitch
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| So I’ll never forget…
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| Some of us die, some got threw in prison
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| I wanna ride, for a new position
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| I wanna make a album about my life
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| But in this music bid’ness tell me who would listen
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| What you wanna hear: truth or fiction?
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| Petty niggas talkin' about they movin' shipments
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| Like UPS, but, you BS so your birds
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| Wouldn’t know what to do with pigeons
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| Keep, it one hundred every time I rock a beat
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| And I done it deep, from the heart I sleep
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| With a gun I dream, about peace
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| But not the one under the pillow motherfucker
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| Glock-9, rather rock mics
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| Put a stop sign, on the block life
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| Slangin' hot lines, over rock pipes
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| Then I got signed, I’m in the spotlight
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| CL600 silver Benz, makin' love to my dividends
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| Gettin' calls, from my relatives I never knew at all
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| And niggas that never been my friends
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| Niggas that never been my friends … I didn’t change
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| You niggas changed the way you treat me, just because I’m
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| Ridin' down the street, with my top down
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| Got a bad bitch, sittin' on my side
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| Rubbin' on my thigh, wonderin' why
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| I’m so motherfuckin' fly, and I smile, cause she knows
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| I drop her off and pick up one mo'
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| Everyday that’s how it goes, in every way that’s how it goes
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| I’m ridin' down the street
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| With my nigga 'Skinny Kenny' on my side
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| In that black-on-black, 'Lac sittin' on them sixes
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| Man this money shit, is addictive
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| And it’s real, as real as it get
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| It’s funny how shit flips, so fuck you and that bitch
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| I’ll never forget…
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| I’ll never forget man
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| How you niggas gon' hate on me, huh?
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| I’m a top rhymin', Section 8
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| Spraying Raid on roaches nigga man
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| You niggas should be inspired by me I came from nothing
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| Aight? |
| That’s real motherfuckin' talk dog
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| When I lay that GT coupe out on the boulevard nigga
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| It came from nothing…
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| Niggas supposed to be inspired right now
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| Nah mean? |
| You should salute a nigga like me |
Song information On this page you can find the lyrics of the song Never Forget, artist - Crooked I. Album song Psalm 82:6, in the genre Иностранный рэп и хип-хоп