| I grew up with haters right under the same roof
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| Ain’t never no food, but the whiskey is 80 proof
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| Niggas is shootin at me, and my sister called the police
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| To tell 'em that my homies loaned me a piece
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| Devil-worshippin neighbors, niggas borrowin penicillin
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| Rats and roaches is chillin, my sister makin a killin
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| Sellin drugs to my other sisters and now I hope
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| They break in her fuckin Buick and pinch on her dope
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| I transferred out of Compton High School with a gun in my pants
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| Ready for whatever comes and I’m prayin
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| I ain’t gotta be the one shot up in the hospital
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| Simply because Compton never had one, fuck it
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| I shot them niggas and I moved to another town
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| Gave the gun to Darryl and I had him go melt it down
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| How many times did they call me a fag
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| 'Til they got stomped out and threatened with a 44 mag
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| We gotta freak the freak the funk
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| We gotta seize and squeeze the pump
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| We gotta tease and beat these punks
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| Get on your knees 'til Jesus comes
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| Give up the keys, get in the trunk
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| And if he freeze, begin to dump
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| We gotta smash and kick and stomp, blast a punk
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| Get on your knees 'til Jesus comes
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| Niggas call me dumb but I’m smarter than your momma
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| For lettin yo' daddy ejaculate in her and stickin her wit’cho drama
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| Cause you ain’t nuttin but a skanky welfare case
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| Livin in scum Bum-o-Rama
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| A shelf full of antibiotics and narcotics
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| Dwellin in a house full of lazy psychotics
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| Pissin and shittin on theyself and you too stupid to help
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| Because you just a dumb nigga yourself
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| Ain’t that the kettle callin the pot round and hot? |
| (Huh?)
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| Ain’t the reason you 'bout to be found bound and shot? |
| (Huh?)
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| You need to keep my name off your tongue, before they find you hung
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| With a letter in your own handwriting motherfucker
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| How much liquor could I consume in one sitting?
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| How many niggas did I shake for bullshittin?
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| I run any console, I’m an engineer
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| And I drink imported beer while I’m lookin for the gear
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| I’m a stylist, I’m not a porn star
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| I know enough to where I can service my own car
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| I ain’t ignorin you stupid, I just be watchin my own rhythms
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| And lovin how they fall, this music is different
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| A new generation
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| The beat is so fancy, look at my presentation
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| It’s not 16, it’s 12, makin a scene as well
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| Watchin my green and mail, how could I fail?
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| How could I fail? |
Song information On this page you can find the lyrics of the song Til Jesus Comes, artist - DJ Quik. Album song Trauma, in the genre Иностранный рэп и хип-хоп