| How can I get blamed for shit
|
| That a nigga really didn’t even do
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| One nigga did the dirt, but the blames on the whole crew
|
| I feel like O.J. |
| and Rodney
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| A little mayo, but still don’t be having no happy days like Potsy
|
| Nigga’s get blamed for every thang
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| From robbin you house, to ho stroll’s
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| And the tropicana cocaine
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| And if the sun turned black
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| OR
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| Nigga’s getttin (??) like the oldies
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| Played the fuck out, we only known for stealin cars and drinkin 40's
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| Or showin your whole ass crack on cops
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| They quick to do a nigga on the routine stop
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| Chopped rock’s, in a nigga possesion, a whole zip
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| Blame me cause I’m one of fo' grips
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| Now you can have mayo and a gang of triggers
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| But that ain’t shit, cause they still going to blame a nigga
|
| (Chorus plays over REDNECK talking)
|
| Boy I tell ya Jim, one of those black niggers took
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| The battery outta my car last night
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| I didn’t see it, but I know those niggers ways
|
| (Numskull)
|
| Driving down the block, and what did I see
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| A police man trying to gaffle me
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| Threw down my rocks, so I wouldn’t get caught
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| A high-speed CHASE for fourty-eight blocks
|
| (Verse 2 — Yukmouth)
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| I heard some shit was goin down though
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| It might be scanda-lous, on the down low
|
| Plus I get around ho, like Shock and Mon'
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| Walking to the lot, forgot I got the gun
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| In the bushes, more mayo then the rest of the pushers
|
| Tonight a nigga might be readin my Nike’s like Bushwick
|
| Chronic smoke like chimney, to lit a doobie
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| They knew me, let me in free cause I be that Luni
|
| Higher then the police sky waves off the blue
|
| I partied two or three hours now I’m sideways in the sukra
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| To the hoopsta’s, survival is the be-under
|
| But I was in it, now five-oh's on my bumper
|
| Ready to dump the forty outie, and weed baggies
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| They had me searchin through my car, for what we have we here
|
| A queer tryna frame a nigga, but shame on a nigga
|
| That try to put the blame on a nigga
|
| (Chorus plays over REDNECK talking)
|
| Uh, hello, this is 900 blame a nigga?
|
| Uh, my daughter’s raped, and comin back from
|
| A Ku Klux Clan meetin, and I know a nigga did it
|
| (Yukmouth)
|
| Last night was the night before
|
| Twenty-four robber’s came knocking at my door
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| I ran out, they ran in, trying to blast for my cash
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| With ski-masks on they’re chin
|
| (Verse 3 — Luniz)
|
| Take a puff from my hamp then bounce
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| I’m on a mission for scrilla, vanilla slugs by my zipper
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| Playa haters trippin off ho’s it seems that they plot
|
| Snitch to the cops, and swear that I chopped O’s of cream
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| WHO STOLE THE COOKIE OUT THE COOKIE JAR!
|
| That’s what they mumble
|
| Now knowin about THE POWER OF NUMSKULL!
|
| Now I done had it wit all that static
|
| I’m thinkin I should load my automatic
|
| And let all these faggots have it
|
| (Yukmouth)
|
| One love, it’s cocked backed, and then I bust slugs
|
| Roastin a motherfucker, so busta always suffer
|
| Blood in the ghetto, other niggas try to run up
|
| Wit they gun, and get done from sun down to sun up, punk
|
| Dead bodies in the trunk, they kept on tellin the
|
| OPD I was sellin' D, I caught a felony
|
| As soon as I got out, had to pop out a nigga brains
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| I was the wrong nigga to frame
|
| (REDNECK talking while Chorus plays)
|
| Boy I wish I could get a job
|
| But them damn niggers take all the jobs nowadays
|
| They got affirmative action stuff
|
| I tell you that guy up in puff, he agreed to that stuff bad
|
| Them, them niggas are gonna know where it’s, hey…
|
| (Yukmouth talking)
|
| Wassup man, you all on my tape and shit
|
| Talkin that weak shit, get the fuck up outta hear
|
| (REDNECK)
|
| Who are you, who are you!
|
| You nigga’s are tryna kill me!
|
| (Yukmouth)
|
| Get yo punk ass up outta here, peckerwood motherfucker
|
| Jive ass turkey, that’s right
|
| I stole yo motherfuckin car
|
| But aye, it’s yo fault
|
| Yo ass brought us from Africa, bitch
|
| Aye get yo ass up outta here, you peckerwood motherfucker
|
| Blast that fool man, blast that fool, get him, get him
|
| He tryna run, blast that fool, yeah, talkin all that shit
|
| Pointin the finger and shit, I’m tired of y’all
|
| Pointin the fingers at motherfuckers mayne
|
| Y’all done got O.J., Tyson, my potnah 2Pac, Gov
|
| Man fuck blamin me, I didn’t do it, WHY, fuck that you did it |