Song information On this page you can find the lyrics of the song Neighborhood Watch, artist - Paris. Date of issue: 27.10.2008
Song language: English
Neighborhood Watch |
| You can keep fightin', or you can go home |
| You can keep tryin', or get rolled on |
| I’ma keep ridin', 'cause when the funk is on |
| Most of these so-called rebels ain’t got they phones on |
| So I turn to the killers and the gangbangers |
| Teach 'em how change, doin' the same thang |
| Show a loc how to love himself |
| And how self-hate make you wanna slug yourself |
| Introduce him to the enemy that enemy made |
| And how the evil made 'em murder for the clique that he claim |
| When I see it all click in his brain |
| I put an clip in his hand and tell 'em, «Come on, it’s women to save» |
| You a young black warrior, raised in a battlefield |
| Some say soldier, trained with a strap to kill |
| But it ain’t no good if all you think about |
| Is shootin' up the area Blacks chill, and that’s real |
| Time to leave the wrong for right |
| Gotta make a change in my life |
| Shake all the stress and strife |
| And gain wealth with knowledge of self, baby |
| Settle down and raise a fam |
| And know about that master plan |
| That’s why we gotta understand |
| Nobody looking out for us but us, true baby |
| History and time have proved nobody cares |
| If you live life cool or you die but you |
| You ride for me homie, I’ma ride for you |
| Long as you understand who you bring the violence to |
| If you hard enough to murder for malt liquor and mean mugs |
| Mash on these bitch-ass cops who bring teens drugs |
| And politicians who pass laws that don’t do shit, keepin' streets corrupt |
| Keepin' us stuck |
| And trapped in that hell hole |
| I know the reason of the reason for the reason which your mind bases hell on |
| You ain’t gotta call hell home |
| If you think twice 'bout smokin' a brother for gettin' his mail on |
| Let me guess, you ain’t workin' for the white man? |
| Who you think you workin' for, sellin' white, man? |
| They lend you yayo, send you to jail |
| The hard truth of it spells the intent to fail, might as well |
| Time to leave the wrong for right |
| Gotta make a change in my life |
| Shake all the stress and strife |
| And gain wealth with knowledge of self, baby |
| Settle down and raise a fam |
| And know about that master plan |
| That’s why we gotta understand |
| Nobody looking out for us but us, true baby |
| Real G’s know the drama |
| From being nine years old seein' Five-O feelin' all on your momma |
| Smacked her hard, threw her in the back of the car |
| For some out of date tags on the car |
| That’s hard, real Crips know the real shit |
| Livin' with ya granny 'cause ya daddy ain’t never callin' or give shit |
| So of course, the anger from the pain just might be the blame |
| For niggas that get they wig split |
| Real Bloods know it’s hard to feel love |
| If daddy was there, but he threatened to kill us |
| And while we did homework, he just did drugs |
| Of course, I’ma flash red rags and give it up, nigga |
| Punk police, deadbeat daddies and crack |
| Are the reason many hated bein' black |
| It’s time to rise up, open your eyes up |
| To the people who created the trap and hate that, take that |