| Yeah, I saw a woman get hit on Amsterdam, she tryna cop her some shit
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| Right across from the barber shop, a car on top of her head
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| That Columbian Presbyterian pronouncin' her dead
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| She died the first time the needle ever punctured her skin
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| Now are we citizens or immigrants?
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| They ain’t fill they census in
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| In the middle of criminals
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| Hopin' to get a legitimate business in, no minimum wage
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| Now they be givin' them minimum sentences
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| If they gonna live in a cage
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| Well then they family gonna live better, shit
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| Now my incentive is to keep my people wealthy
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| Eatin', organic, I keep my people healthy
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| Leaky, Titanic, them freaky women love me
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| Young Hispanics in galleries up in Chelsea
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| Ah, what the fuck you mean I ain’t nice?
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| I’m lightning and strikin' twice, excitin' as any vice
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| I got you beggin' me for your life
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| Until your knees lookin' like the fuckin' Passion of the Christ
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| Where they be doublin' bags half price
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| Keepin' an eye out for the vice or when the D’s pass by
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| Life a crap shoot, we rollin' them stacked dice
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| For bills that are past due, hoes that are stacked nice
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| ‘Cause we advocates for savage shit, Impalas always passin' it
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| Piojos always staggerin' ‘cause you could get a bag for ten
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| The high is now even if tomorrow cancerous
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| Don’t worry about the future when all that’s holdin' is jowl or death
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| We holdin' shallow breath, all of my people are lookin' at whips
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| And chains like if that’s success but they can’t pass the test
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| She 16 and showin' ass and breasts ‘cause mama said fuck a bachelor degree
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| Go get a bachelorette and start a family, don’t start a career, yeah
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| That’s the mentality for daughters up here yeah
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| The latest block gossip, man, that’s all that you hear
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| Like, «Yo, who fuckin' who?!» |
| and «Who about to get cheers?»
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| It’s all addictions and convictions and ritual superstitions
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| Botanicas on the corner with rosaries in the windows
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| Pastors don’t give a shit about Jesus’s crucifixion
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| ‘Cause they be gettin' they money from skimmin' out the collections
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| Sinners with imperfections, agendas and hid intentions
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| Bitches is whipping Benzes, we Section 8 on they rented
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| Kids that ain’t know they father, the odds have been stacked against us
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| That’s just the way that we living on 167th |
Song information On this page you can read the lyrics of the song Harsh Realities (167 Reprise) , by - Emilio Rojas. Song from the album Zero Fucks Given: Volume One, in the genre Иностранный рэп и хип-хоп