Song information On this page you can find the lyrics of the song Our Way, artist - Fashawn. Album song Boy Meets World, in the genre Рэп и хип-хопDate of issue: 19.10.2009
Record label: IAN Group
Song language: English
Our Way |
| Cen Cal terrain, soak up game |
| Where graff writers bomb trains |
| And poets is smoked out with dope in they veins |
| Need a toast to the post where we hang |
| Dialect unmatched |
| Gotta adapt to the slang that’s spoke, a West coast thing |
| Out of town niggas get took out the frame |
| Just for thinkin' every hood’s the same |
| Especially where I’m from, we live by the gun |
| Put money over bitches, and die over funds |
| You could lie in the trunk or at the blink |
| Of an eye get jumped, can’t say we seen it all |
| But we can say we saw enough |
| Survive when the times got rough |
| And the money got low, houses got raided |
| We was at the park gettin' faded, not a care in the world |
| «West coast in ya area» |
| «From the streets of the 'No» |
| «5−5-9» «My birthplace» «L-A» |
| «Where I’m comin' from» |
| «The Coast of the Pacific» |
| Another two days, the sun set, they lose like touche |
| Too bad, I was off the head like toupees |
| Got home off two planes, toothaches |
| To-day, myspace, two-thousand plays |
| Last call for alcohol’s 2AM |
| On a Tuesday night, we was sayin' |
| Know this our way, LA party crashin' |
| We from here, y’all talk funny, y’all got the accents |
| East slopes to the beach, post up each |
| Every day, new trees, Cali green |
| Green leafs, weed medicine cards |
| Streets got eyes in 3D |
| Still peep, polluted air when I sleep |
| Fuckin' up the count in my sheep |
| The far left, I’m part of the next |
| Shine different, work hard, not gonna bottle the stress |
| Skate parks jumpin', one-time focus |
| Young niggas pumpin', hoodrats scopin' |
| At the bus stop, brothers might slide through dumpin' |
| Broad daylight outside like «fuck it» |
| Hood rich, we drive-by in buckets |
| With chrome 22's on the side, call it stuntin' |
| Flamboyant young hustlers and |
| Couch bums who amounted to nothin' |
| Mouthpiece help me get dough |
| Out a chick in the mall buyin' fresh clothes |
| Some broads got burned out |
| Erica turned 17 and got turned out |
| That’s how we live in the streets of the F |
| Paranoid so I sleep wit a Tec, valley of death |
| I’m from the Sunshine State, but we livin' in darkness |
| Be smart nigga, enter with caution, it’s F-C |