| Yeah, shit’s serious, man
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| Word
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| Ay Craven what up? |
| Let’s get to this money, man
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| Let’s get to this greatness
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| For real, know we the specialists, man
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| We the professionals of this shit, man
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| All these other niggas, man
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| They amateurs with this shit
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| Ever wondered just how these streets play
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| I seen my niece grazed, we each prayed but still I was homicidal for three days
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| But she’s brave, she took it in stride and told us to behave
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| Mama said that these ain’t the type of children that she raised
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| Back to my street ways, homicides and police raids
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| 'Cause we paid, but life without worries is what we each crave
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| I told my son he was baggin' a quarter key shaved
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| Don’t be a drag and go find out how much all that D weighed
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| Ironically, I’m in chains but talk like a free slave
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| Receive praise, I’m deeper than bunkers buried beneath graves
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| Yeah, bet I knock a chunk off this geek’s waves
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| With these K’s, I take a cap off and make sure the beef’s aged
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| Y’all niggas wear purses and try to bleach braids
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| Huh, my niggas like lions trapped in a weak cage
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| Bruce Banner on gamma when I release rage
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| With each page, paragraphs get written with every beat slayed
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| I’m depraved, my father, my son in his quarantine phase
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| Re sage the house and count blessings before the sheet’s slayed
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| I don’t speak vague, slow learners get delayed
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| Beefin' with the DA’s, inmates get they cheeks blazed
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| Bet they won’t find the body until it decays
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| And he won’t respect life until it replays
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| Anyone in the crowd can catch one of these strays
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| The DJs, openin' acts in the R&B stage
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| Street money is sour, stick to the sweet wage
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| You on the run eatin', don’t get ya cleats grazed
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| I lay my hat where my pet peeve stays
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| (?) the only men allowed in the G cave
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| Spend money on war, no peace pays
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| Now you wanna cool down after the heat raised
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| Nothin' is impossible, Magic Johnson beat AIDS
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| He won’t stress a rainy day as long as he saves
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| What’s happens in neighborhood where the self esteem has been overshadowed by
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| the decay
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| And the children no longer play the way they used to
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| When the young boys choose to follow figures that had no father figures
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| The place where lives have been reduced to mere names on a nigga wall
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| Lot of dead shames on a nigga wall
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| 'Cause most of my childhood friends died over dumb shit
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| It’s like we all on some slum shit
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| Whatever happened to that we shall overcome shit, nigga
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| Where I’m from, shit
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| They done tore down the projects and took away neighborhood sports
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| It’s a place where little black boys put on jerseys and shorts
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| Dream big about stardom on… |
Song information On this page you can find the lyrics of the song Inglorious Bastards, artist - Ransom. Album song Directors Cut (Scene Two), in the genre Рэп и хип-хоп