Lyrics Home - Jake One

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…206, you know this
The place to be if you blow piff
Medical card, see the doctor on some kumo shit
Split the blunt after you fold it?
You gone' trip
They have you on some pimp shit
New clothes, kicks
Lil' mommy strokin' the mink like -- «You so crisp!»
If you notice, these fools know tricks, to scoop yo' bits
So keep your game tight, don’t lose your grip, like Jerramy Stevens
Its not the place to be if you barely eat
The Winter time is the therapy season
They say the overcast depresses the stunt’s growth
But them ain’t rain clouds my nigga, that’s blunt smoke
Damn it feels good to talk about home…
Welcome to Seattle where the sun don’t shine
C NOTE
Lets take em back to the scene yo
Show em what I mean though
Shark Bar, Art Bar, Oskar’s, Deano’s
Streets fish grease same thing, better weed though
Dark days, fast nights, VUSCA, King Co
News travels word of mouth, I know you heard about
Dude turned state, he been talking to Kerlikowsk'
'Bout JUOSLP, MOA, Valley hood
East U, deuce eight, South side, West wide
Dilapidated gentrified
40 ounce for breakfast, Macchiato when I’m high
Promised to make her mine
She let me get it rain sleet or shine
Yeah, that’s Seattle state of mind
Damn it feels good to talk about home…
Damn it feels good to talk about home…
MANEAK B
Rise and shine bitches check how Seattle do
The flow sick shit, call it Seattle flu
Outta town, actin wild, my Seattle crew
Run this Jake track just like Seattle Slew
And the green that we blow from Seattle too
That was grown in a lab at Seattle U
At Qwest Field 12th man my Seattle dude
Nate Burleson wearin that Seattle blue
Bosworth made all of Seattle boo
The Sonics let Kemp go -- «Seattle's through!»
I read Seattle Times I watch Seattle news
I hope Seattle win I watch Seattle lose
Damn it feels good to talk about home…
Damn it feels good to talk about home…
ISH
Man its about that time
To pop that cork and pour out that shine
Ooooo
Full out hard grind, gettin' better life wine
Make the dimes then whi-i-ine (ine-ine)
Yeah Ish that’s me, white M3 bangin
J Soup LP, (In the hood) like the young niggas bang LP
Union, Jackson, Yesler, Two-Three
Boy I stay ooh-we
You do you and let me do me
And I bet I out crack these half assed niggas
Ain’t wet on the track (What up balla’s)
Check these pussy niggas not ballers
You fuckin with the town’s rap scholars, bitch holla!
We just very low, key don’t think that a nigga
Don’t very blow heat
And ain’t nery none em sweet
Solo Do' is my idol man, Cherry is the street
The streets buried my peeps
Credit Dre, Dowell, Doobie and Baby T
I bought Kools in Mr. Lows for my moms
In the Doghouse hallways that made my flows bomb
From the CD we is all just alike
Panthers and gangstas raised us up right
When the chips crash stand yo ass up and fight
Some chose the top blow me I gun mics
Check it and I will gun you down
C. Dillon killin how we run through sounds (Up the middle boy)
The whole world renowned, first we built it
Then we killed it, then we tilted that crown
To the left cause I’m fresh off the right
Cause we tight to the back
Whats the haps?
Shit nothin'
Headed up to Granny’s with Ezells and The Facts
Some say I pushed it forward some say he brought it back
I put the ill up in real you a fake
When I’m chill when I build with the Jake One
Damn it feels good to talk about home…
Damn it feels good to talk about home…