| Pause
|
| My man Holo told me the devil would control me
|
| If I didn’t have a hold of my soul and mind
|
| 'Cause now I think back on when I used to sell crack
|
| To all the twigged-out bags makin' a grip in '89
|
| It’s a… she made Philmo' clique
|
| Eight years old niggers on the corner running bags
|
| While I’m in the park smokin' weed & drinkin' port
|
| It was the boys in the hood taggin' fucking…
|
| But-a, that was the past, all that
|
| I’m thinking of other ways of making my pockets fat
|
| And mixing those beats on plastic
|
| They like tricks, fool
|
| You can’t have it silly rabbit
|
| Kimball
|
| Got the past in the past and we’re in the present tense
|
| Looking out from where we are, it’s amazing that we got this far
|
| Like a… it hits, gonna follow you…
|
| Like a son in your gun, turn the corner and the door is shut
|
| Pause
|
| Back when I was young in the hood carryin' a gun
|
| It was an everyday thing 'cause you had to watch your back
|
| Running from the 5−0, jumping fences high and low
|
| For no fucking reason, just because my skin is black
|
| Ain’t a damn thing funny in the land of milk and honey
|
| When… mess with me for their change
|
| 'Cause eight years later now my soul is feeling greater
|
| But my mind is not at ease, 'cause the system’s still the same
|
| The best that I can do is go on
|
| Exactly what my mom and pop told me, stay strong
|
| I know I might seem like I’m a stranger from the moon
|
| And now I got the key so I can step into the next room
|
| Kimball
|
| Our plan it happened there and then, no repent or second dance
|
| Makes one thing…
|
| That’s the rub, ah that’s the rub
|
| Won’t you turn the corner to the next room and the door is shut
|
| That’s the rub, a, that’s the rub
|
| Won’t you turn the corner to the next room and the door’s |