Lyrics Intro (Chopped & Screwed) - E.S.G

Intro (Chopped & Screwed)

June 3rd, the day I was born\nLil' nappy head nigga, t-shirt all torn\nMama dropped out of school, in the 8th grade\nKids across the street, they use to sell lemonade\nShit I bought a bar of soap, and a box of razor blades\nI had different thoughts, I’m trying to get paid\nIn church every sunday, praying for some hope\nAsking God, that I don’t grow up broke\nNow I’m down on my knees, asking God why\nCan’t have no suede Pumas, or no fucking Fila’s\nStep-daddy died, he had full blown AIDS\nHe was tooting up, and then the nigga started shooting up\nUncle started recruiting us, he was hustling crack\nIt’s safe to say, I was born in the trap\nNo longer going to church, but I’m quick to pull my gun out\nBasketball MVP, the trophy’s at my mom house\nHoop dreams faded, nobody called\nBack to the block, full time hogg\n18 got probation, for a pound of weed\nYear later I’m connected, get fronted half-a-ki's\nSaw my first thirty G’s, games getting deeper\nMoved to H-Town, cause the bricks were cheaper\nSomebody started snitching, now the word is out\nAnd letter factors in my sofa nigga, birds in my couch\nFED’s hit my house, they ain’t find shit G\nStill tried to give me 20, for a damn conspiracy\nAsking bout my niggaz, ain’t no snitch in I\ntold the D.A., eat a dick and die\nRound the same time, I was fucking with Screw\nGave me «Swangin' And Bangin», the first hit a nigga ever do\nAnd thanks to him I got love, so I represented\nSix months later «Ocean of Funk», hundred thousand independent\nProbation violation, I’m back on lock\nDropped «Sailin' Da South», just to keep my name hot\nVideo got shot, MLK Boulevard\nThree months 'fore that, caught a fucking murder charge\nNigga broke in my crib, shot my partna in the head\nSo I grabbed the chopper, left the bitch nigga dead\nInstead of self defense, they tried to give me murder one\nThree years in the Penn, homie that wasn’t fun\nTouched down on the streets, «Return of the Living Dead»\nAnother fifty thousand independent, get my bread\nHelped Wreckshop, make bout 1.3\n«Shinin' &Grindin», «Dirty 3rd», «City Under Siege»\nHad Flip under my wing, Slim Thug too\nAnd both them niggaz switched, like some homosexuals do\nFrom «Wanna be a Baller», to «Getcha Hands Up»\nYou wanna fuck with me, you gotta get your grands up\nReal niggaz stand up, fake niggaz hit the deck\nEveryday Street Gangsta, I’m the epidemy of that\nNo holding me back, I’m part of God’s plan\nAngel in disquise, I walk in God’s hands\nAnd like I said befo', the devils wanna clip my wings\nImmortal underdog, call me Constantine\nFuck the movie ring, it’s real lifetime\nDon’t believe me, ask C-Murder ask Shyne\nRappers like 50, use some real gangstas mayn\nI really had a murder charge, really moved the caine\nTold to swang and bang, when I was only 17\nI knew about syrup, pop trunks and screens\nNintendos in the dash, candy paint shining\nBoys already know, I’m way mo' than grinding\nSo yeah, now you bitch niggaz know\nWhat E.S.G. stand fo', that’s my motherfucking intro nigga\n(*talking*)\nKnow I’m saying, E.S.G.\nA legend in this shit, know I’m saying\nThis album right here, is dedicated\nTo two special cats, my dog Nick Sholtz\nAnd Matney on lock, let’s get this money\nWhat up Duke, smoke some’ing Junior