| Do you feel that the Blacks in your community
|
| Are still mad at the racial situation?
|
| Yeah, they still mad
|
| And if you don’t take that funny smirk off your face
|
| I’mma kick your…
|
| Over three hundred ghetto-related crimes happened
|
| In Newark, New Jersey alone — still the saga continues
|
| Stick 'em up, stick 'em up! |
| I got the jammy to your guts, punk
|
| Don’t make a move! |
| Before I choose to make your guts run
|
| All over the block, 'cause my stomach’s in a knot
|
| And it growls twenty-four hours a day around the tick-tock
|
| I got roaches and rats up the back, carryin' bats and gats
|
| So I *farting noise* 'fore I snack, Jack
|
| Because I’m not down with water from the hydrant
|
| My moms taking a bath and my brother’s next to dive in
|
| I gotta think of a plan so I can eat
|
| I haven’t had a cracker for weeks so my mouth leaks
|
| I squad up, 'cause I’mma set up this kid
|
| Carryin' loot out from Burger King and what I’mma do is…
|
| Run up on him, snatch the bag of money, then bust the dummy!
|
| 'Cause, my man, when I think of a plan, there’s no shorts take
|
| 'Cause I pack jammies inside of my North Face, coat
|
| Had the black brother on scope
|
| No joke’s what I am 'cause the man’s a pure pro
|
| (Yo, my man you got a light?
|
| Yeah, give me the effin' money too, G!)
|
| Yo, STOP, STOP, STOP!
|
| Took the money then I dipped with the quickness
|
| The plan went well, so I got down to the business
|
| Opened up the bag, it was filled with paper
|
| I thought I freaked the funk but now starts the caper
|
| 'Cause I was set up, now I have to go head up with the cops
|
| But they carryin' black Glocks (Shit's thick!)
|
| What’s my next move? |
| My life’s on the line
|
| Bullets in their clips and none in mine
|
| Sirens on, once again it’s on
|
| I fell (OW!) and then the black Glocks went (POW!)
|
| I got snuffed and I got bust
|
| Now the only thing I’m sniffin' is dust, because it’s…
|
| 'Cause it’s so rough
|
| 'Cause it’s so rough
|
| 'Cause it’s so rough
|
| 'Cause it’s so rough
|
| 'Cause it’s so rough
|
| Me and Erick Sermon taking a trip Uptown
|
| In the 4Runner, blastin' my tape, puffin' ganja
|
| Since Erick got props
|
| I stepped to this hottie with more damn body than a chop shop
|
| Flexed the jewels then she chose to talk to me
|
| It was no doubt that baby cakes was hawkin' me
|
| So I kicked it, upped the digits, terrific
|
| Not knowin' she was scopin' me 'cause I was MAD splifted
|
| Later on that week, honeydip freaked the funk
|
| Playin' Redman and Erick out like two chumps
|
| Callin' him weekdays, callin' me weeknights
|
| (Who had her weekends?) Whichever man would freak right
|
| Things got cozy one night like dynamite
|
| We stripped to bare backs and took care of the bare facts
|
| (No hats? Damn, black) The Funkadelic
|
| Took a splash — you know how that go, fellas
|
| Two months later (See you later, alligator)
|
| She was pissed and, I ended up seein' my physician
|
| She took a blood test, she took a head check
|
| Looked at me thinkin', «Why the hell he isn’t dead yet?»
|
| Then I asked her, «Why you lookin' at me?!»
|
| She said, «Redman, because you have the HIV»
|
| Called Erick and his set, that girl, don’t mess around!
|
| Too late, 'cause Erick already had his drawers down
|
| 'Cause it’s
|
| 'Cause it’s so rough
|
| 'Cause it’s so rough
|
| 'Cause it’s so rough
|
| 'Cause it’s so rough
|
| 'Cause it’s so rough
|
| To all my brothers, wear your hats, wear your hats
|
| You can either get with this or you can either catch the claps
|
| And to my sisters, make 'em wear they prophyl-lastic
|
| 'Cause it’s drastic, havin' another ghetto bastard
|
| Think I’m dying for a piece of butt? |
| Honey, you must be nuts
|
| You better settle for a wet kiss, so pucker up
|
| 'Cause you end up messin' around catchin' the heebie jeebies
|
| Lookin' like «WHODUNNIT?» |
| Witcha face up on the TV
|
| So next time you want sex, get wreck, but protect
|
| 'Cause you could be like sexin' to your last death
|
| And if you still don’t know the time, press rewind
|
| 'Cause the next thing you might hear is a flatline
|
| Word |