Song information On this page you can read the lyrics of the song Tommy , by - Mathematics. Song from the album The Problem, in the genre Рэп и хип-хопRelease date: 27.06.2005
Song language: English
Tommy |
| Set it here, set it here |
| What is this, boy, what’s the deal here |
| What’s the deal here? |
| Come on with it, come on with it, speak up |
| Speak up, you better be cool, suckas |
| You better be cool |
| You don’t know who I am, do you, chump? |
| I’m the death to you, boy |
| To you, and you, and you, better remember now |
| What goes around, comes around |
| I’m coming here, don’t fuck me with now |
| You’ll be dead |
| Yo, Tommy what you doing out here, man? |
| (Our little Tommy is thugging) |
| You only 13, man, you should be in the crib, man |
| You know if your brother was here, man |
| (Selling drugs and he’s buggin') |
| You know what they do to you, man |
| Word, I’ll let him know, Jamaica, Queens |
| (Our little Tommy is thugging) |
| When we get smoked out, we just be buggin' |
| Knowhatimsayin', check it |
| (Our little Tommy is thugging) |
| Yo, yo, yo |
| Aiyo, I’m looking for that Dolly Parton |
| So I skeet right on her salad garden |
| Key up her ignition, after, whippin' it, I’m valet parking |
| Fine grape Buddha, now we sparking |
| Fingers cob webbin', cop weed from four Jamaican’s bobsledding |
| I’m top rank with the bank, it’s no more stolen cars |
| Fightin' over tuna cans, living off granola bars |
| I put my work in like the Older Gods |
| And gotta mob with status, Martin Lawrence |
| Made it word to Robin Harris |
| And my hood is villain blocks, niggas killin' cops |
| Cops killin' niggas, dirty chicks and penicillin shots |
| I’m sick of seeing bitches lyin' with a straight face |
| Friendly orgies turning into Kobe Bryant’s rape case |
| My block is where the drama take place |
| Fightin' moccasin, dippin' from Johnny Depp and Holly Robinson |
| 21 Jump Street jake, NYPD license plates |
| I write with grace, pipe the eighth, but only if my life’s at stake |
| Yo, I’m trynna get my cash established |
| Three-two, Eyes ---- |
| Tommy |
| Little Tommy got his hands on a gun, he only 13 |
| Smoking weed, running with thugs that’s like 33 |
| He try’na grow too fast, it ain’t cool |
| Cuttin' school, at a hooky party, feelin' on ass |
| Til some hatin' cats came in, Tommy started grippin' |
| Dude looked him up and down, and Tommy got offended |
| Shots rang off, everybody runnin' rampant |
| Little do they know, Tommy loved gun clappin' |
| The kid bounced before he even got hit |
| Messed up when shorty got caught, between that shit |
| Now, who gonna tell honey mom’s how she cut school |
| At a hooky school with girlfriends and wild dudes |
| Who gonna talk to the cop, who gettin' locked for it? |
| Tommy fled the scene, before somebody else saw him |
| He ran fast, down Fulton Ave., tossin' his gun |
| Thinkin' to himself; |
| 'What the fuck I’ve done' |
| Tommy, Tommy |
| Tommy, Tommy |
| Tommy, Tommy, Tommy |
| Tommy, Tommy, Tommy |
| His pops left when he was young, brother got locked up |
| In the car chase, cause somebody got shot up |
| A prime example of a man in your life |
| A little dude like to fight for what’s wrong, and not right |
| Livin' life, it ain’t life no more, homicide outside |
| Lookin' in, about to knock on his door |
| And little Tommy in a jam now, he going out |
| Deja vu, but he seen what his brother would do |
| So he flew out the back, on the run for the rest of his life |
| Somebody told, he did it that same night |
| A news flash, girl shot dead, her family sad |
| And little Tommy couldn’t live with that, he’d rather die |
| Commited suicide, blew his brains out, his moms cried |
| Only son left, took his last breath, closed his eyes now |
| He on the other side, feeling good, talkin' to God |
| Understanding why he had it so hard |
| Tommy is buggin', oh yeah |
| Tommy is thuggin' |
| Tommy hisself, Tommy hisself |
| (Said he thugged and he bugged) |
| Tommy is buggin', Tommy is buggin' |
| (Drugs… did that) |
| Tommy, Tommy, Tommy, Tommy |
| Tommy, Tommy, Tommy, Tommy |
| Tom, Tom, Tom, Tom, Tommy |
| {Brooklyn, nigga, yo Mathematics |
| They ain’t understanding, man |
| This is real serious, word haha |
| It’s a lot of little Tommy’s all over the US ghetto |
| You know what I mean? |
| I mean these young dudes |
| Really don’t know, man, I think the TV |
| Manipulate they minds man, they raising our kids |
| Man, too many of them, we gotta control it, word |
| And this what happens when you can’t control it} |
| (Tommy…) |