Song information On this page you can find the lyrics of the song All I Know, artist - Field Mob
Date of issue: 21.10.2002
Age restrictions: 18+
Song language: English
All I Know |
It’s 6 O’clock, it’s volume 1 |
Yeah, Greg Street’s mixtape |
Uh uh |
I came up in the hood infested with teenage hustlers |
Street grinders, paper chasin scrapin busters |
By keepin dust up noses and caine homes; |
pipes and cans |
So they want they ride candy painted just like the man |
That Veta tryin not to bite his hand |
But they need em to keep em life from they stand |
Every night praying for praying go as far as the ceiling |
Got me feel like I’m (cursed) from this heart that I’m dealing |
And all this liquor hoeing brother and goose-neckin |
That I do but I don’t want to got me losing blessings |
GOD said he’ll take the next two steps if I take the first (I did) |
But in it to pick and sellin the spur |
From under my feet, lost faith and jump in the street |
Back to serve a rocks dying to the chrome in the heat |
And running with G’s that take it to the block with 'em |
Tellin me along with my greens up like pot nickel |
Well, all I know |
That I’d been down this road before |
It ain’t the first time, won’t be the last |
I gotta slow down cause I’m living too fast |
It’s time to admit I need some help |
Still living with my momma, can’t feed myself |
Life ain’t about who straight, who real, who fake, and who gay |
It’s about who pray |
You can clock my consistent and endless |
Efforts up uplift me |
Trees and branches catch draft |
When I’m choppin down a path- |
To walk down, actually don’t even know how talk sound |
I’m trying to stop the next step they drawing the chalk round |
Matter-of-factually, I’ll stand alone with no entourage to back me |
GOD is my every existence; |
exhalation, exactly |
I’ll pimp prophets so profounding labels don’t like contract me |
I’m one of a kind; |
they gotta find a satellite to contact me |
Let us bow, I thank the Almighty GOD for right now |
For the strictor, smile through the tribulation and trial |
For sparing me when the devil was daring me |
And scaring me, synonymous for preparing me |
And to my family- the Dungeon Family |
And ya’ll family-- we all family |
And to me health and home and my son Kingston |
My tongue is my gun, revolutions already begun |
(Whaa) |
Well, all I know |
That I’d been down this road before |
It ain’t the first time, won’t be the last |
I gotta slow down cause I’m living too fast |
It’s time to admit I need some help |
Still living with my momma, can’t feed myself |
Life ain’t about who straight, who real, who fake, and who gay |
It’s about who pray |
All I know is charge cards, cars, and clothes |
Maan, it’s all for sure |
And could go and when it’s gone- (you alone) |
Runnin up yo cell phone callin GOD for hope |
And who to say that day ain’t all awful close |
And if you ballin playa, it’s only because GOD’s your coach |
And it don’t bout the lies you hold, laws you broke |
Thangs ya drink, dank and cigars you smoke |
HE gonna forgive and that’s you; |
now don’t get me wrong |
I like LL, but GOD da G.O.A.T' |
HE da greatest of all time, if I’m lying I’m blind |
Can I get a Amen (Amen brother) |
But we got to stop, we got to stop doin dirt |
Coming to Church with a devil tucked in your purse |
Sister Samantha from Atlanta, can’t even much finish her prayer, |
Worried about what Sister Martha wear |
All along worried bout what sister mom gonna wear |
This ya boy or should they ride the martyr there |
It don’t matter at least that’s the moral there |
In Sunday service with a Bible lie defer the South |
But GOD bless her, we here to thank GOD (hmmmm ahhh) |
And that’s the step inside Holy Church thinkin |
I said step inside his Holy Church thinkin |
We all God’s Property, and not just Kirk Franklin |
Well, all I know |
That I’d been down this road before |
It ain’t the first time, won’t be the last |
I gotta slow down cause I’m living too fast |
It’s time to admit I need some help |
Still living with my momma, can’t feed myself |
Life ain’t about who straight, who real, who fake, and who gay |
It’s about who pray |
Open my eyes, see the sunrise |
Talkin about memories of G’s got my tongue tied |
Put out some Henn for my friend, why the good die? |
But til the end, I’m in the wind where the slug fly |
Pray for my sins, I hope I find Heaven close to me |
Try to be godly but these haters provokin me |
Pull the shotty want them dead is what my heart say |
My hard head make me learn shit the hard way |
Dodging the fedz ain’t the easy way to live, care |
But nigga do it everyday to make a meal stack |
Your phone tapped, under surveillance, secretly indicted |
Being watched daily, livin shady just to drive a Merdede |
And fucking ladies, who making babies used against you |
Your enemy be the main nigga you be a friend too |
How can begin to explain the pain |
Can you stay in the rain |
Used to be a simple thing, but the game done changed |
Now slanging caine is a lifestyle |
Risking your freedom just to ball for a short while |
Gettin buckwild on the street up on Westside |
Downtown Atlanta, while we ride some of the best die |
From cocking hammers of these Tec-9s and .45s |
Excuse my grammar; |
but it’s fucked up how time fly |
It seem like yesterday we play until our days was nights |
And yesterday, I just put flowers at his gravesite and that ain’t right |
All I know |
Is I’d been down this road before |
This ain’t the first time, won’t be the last |
I gotta slow down cause I’m living too fast |
It’s time to admit I need some help |
Still living with my momma, can’t feed myself |
Life ain’t about who straight, who real, who fake, and who gay |
It’s about who pray |