Song information On this page you can find the lyrics of the song Crooked Streets (Chopped & Screwed), artist - E.S.GDate of issue: 31.01.1994
Age restrictions: 18+
Song language: English
Crooked Streets (Chopped & Screwed) |
| Ain’t no love on these crooked-ass streets |
| Keep your ass out the kitchen if you can’t stand the heat |
| Pouring brew for my niggas and puffing up on the Swisha |
| Cause ain’t no telling when them hollow points’ll hit ya |
| Fresh up out the county on vacation |
| Back up on the streets with deferred judification |
| A menace to society, a threat to the system |
| Just because the asses are white don’t mean you have to kiss em |
| Crooked cops and crack rocks, they always seem to run my block |
| So now I’m thinking of different ways that I could make a knot |
| Without winding up doing five to ten |
| Cause ain’t no love for us motherfucking thugs in the pen |
| I gots to get the grip cause my fingers keep on slipping |
| Plus my baby’s mama is always tripping |
| So I stay high and reside in my hood |
| Even though the times are hard, to me it’s all good |
| Crooked thoughts in my mind of a thousand different crimes |
| Time after time, I have to uncock my nine |
| Just to save myself from some drama |
| Now my step partner’s started smoking the rocks, and they laid off my mama |
| Times are getting harder in the south without no doubt |
| Don’t wanna try the dope game cause ain’t too many ways out |
| But what the hell, a dolla is a dolla |
| Plus my little brother wants a 64 Impala |
| But for now I’m in the 'Lac like the Mack, having a paper stacks |
| Hitting licks and cooking kis, pulling major jacks |
| Pack a nine-inch Glock to protect my rep |
| And I be praying that my brother don’t be following my footsteps |
| Stay in school cause on the cool, remember the golden rule |
| Cause nowadays, see these niggas’ll act a fool |
| And you can be the one that catch your hollow tip |
| And to this day for taking my younger brother on that trip |
| To meet this ho-ass nigga from the other side of town |
| Not knowing this’ll be the day my blood hit the ground |
| Two to the head and four to the leg |
| Buck, Buck, them gunshots |
| Fucking with that fast life, death is what I got |
| Yo, my older brother was an O. G |
| Sold a lot of dope, baby passed the business down to me |
| Showed me everything from the crème de la crème |
| Now that I’m older, people say that I’m just like him |
| I made it halfway with my brother’s help |
| Now that he’s dead, I’ll follow in his footsteps |
| I gets respect in my motherfucking neighborhood |
| I bar none. |
| I hold my nuts like my brother would |
| My mother prays every night. |
| She hopes that I will change |
| But what my mama don’t know, it’s a muthafuckin G thang |
| Seventeen, and I’m out here in the street life |
| Sleep all day and run the streets all damn night |
| I brought a 'Lac just like my brother’s |
| Same interior, same style, and the same color |
| I hit the club. |
| Bitches all up on me |
| Whispering in my ear how much I look like Jody |
| I reminisce and hit the spliff like I know how |
| Thinking to myself, «if my brother could see me now» |
| It’s fucked up how my brother passed away |
| Two days before his birthday, I watched my nigga get sprayed |
| Ran over to his bloody body, picked him up, dude |
| Held him by the head, and told him, «Don't die, fool» |
| He looked at me, and he said in a low voice |
| «They couldn’t fade me, so death was the only choice» |
| He closed his eyes and held my hand with a tight grip |
| The grip slipped, and I yelled like a bitch |
| A proper burial, that’s what my brother got |
| Until this day, I can still hear those gunshots |