Song information On this page you can find the lyrics of the song S.D.E., artist - Dave East.
Date of issue: 29.09.2016
Age restrictions: 18+
Song language: English
S.D.E. |
This goes to all my hustlers, entertainers |
And of course, athletes in the struggle |
Yo, yo yo yo yo Some get a little and some get none |
Shit, I was part of the some get none |
The ball, run for run, play the slums for crumbs |
Wired, real tired, till my lungs are done |
After all, I was nice in ball, |
But I came to practice weed scented |
Report card like the speed limit |
55−55 expellable |
If your nice they make sure that you eligible |
Pretty final, '92 played the city finals |
Pretty swift, real mvp, and 55th |
I can hoop, yo All-American in my age group, yo Raised bad settled for a ju. |
co. |
(junior college) |
Uh, but why they let a thug on campus |
All i did was rob and mug on campus |
Sliced, rolled dice, got shiest on campus |
At the toast got bad, payed the price on campus |
Forgot about ball, I was done dude |
Now I’m in county in an orange jumpsuit, middle of Texas |
Call moms, she dont want the phone act |
She dont condone it, Cam dont come home, shit |
(Chorus 4X: Notorious B.I.G.) |
Cause the streets is a short stop |
Either you slangin’crack-rock |
or you got a wicked jump shot |
Yo, yo, ayo |
Comin back home, I thought it’d be cool |
But everbody like, Cam, Yo, i thought you in school |
Nah, im about to go back, huh, they know that im lyin' |
See me on broadway, know what im buyin' |
Niggas gettin’money, know what i’m eye’n |
Shiesty again, no where without iron |
Seems like my school life self destroyed |
Fuck gettin’a job, BIG self employed |
Slugs pop, drug spot, runnin’the thing |
Played ball on the weekend, 300 a game |
Till one of the workers pulled a small case |
Mouth runnin’like a dog race, tryin’to get us all laced |
I was slangin, but wasnt a kingpin |
A slow case n', verdict probation |
Tryed to fuck my P.O., she ignored that |
Said, Know what Cam your found with more crack |
See what happen', stopped the crackin' |
Start rappin', quit the clappin' |
Yo, yo, as a young nigga, always into crime |
But no matter what, yo, always used to rhyme |
So in that i became more curious |
Fuck bein’up north delirious, more serious |
Uh, so Killa did mixtapes |
CEO’s heard, now here come big cake |
But one cat said Cam you better recoup |
Before you back on your block, baby, dead on the stoop |
But Un hooked me up with all this cheddar and loot |
The best rap deal of all time next to Snoop |
Money more the clutch, money more the touch |
I dont just rhyme I own liquor stores and such, but |
yeah |
Yo, the rap game remind me of the crack game |
Niggas wanna get they gun, then start the clap game, |
for dat fame |
Throwa Untertainment |
Sport, Drugs, Entertainment |
Till the arrainment, Killa |
(Cam'Ron) |
That’s how it go on my block |
Mad props, let off mad shots |
All my peoples out there tryin’it |
Dis a problem for they environment, killa |
Sports, Drugs, Entertainment |
Till the arraignment |