| Yeah, yeah
|
| I said niggas pop shit all the time
|
| Me I don’t trip 'cause they know I’m never lyin'
|
| Lookin' between the lines
|
| Feel like Ali in his prime
|
| As-Salaam-Alaikum, alaikum salaam
|
| Peace to my Slimes, and peace to my Crips
|
| Neighborhood police and they always on the shift
|
| Protect my Bloods, look out for my cause
|
| When it’s all said and done, we be the realest there was
|
| Who else if just not us?
|
| If you 'bout this revolution, please stand up
|
| We ain’t got no one to trust
|
| Time is running up, feel the burn in my gut
|
| And if you got the guts, scream, «Fuck Donald Trump»
|
| We don’t give a fuck, never had one to give
|
| Never will forget, probably never will forgive
|
| Uh, I guess that’s just how it is
|
| And they still won’t let the Black man live
|
| Feel the energy surge through my veins when I flow
|
| Mentally, I can never be controlled
|
| No sympathy for foes, my enemies exposed
|
| Will they remember me when I’m gone?
|
| I say rockabye, rockabye, rockabye baby
|
| Shotta boy, shotta boy, shotta go crazy
|
| Me nuh play games, so please don’t play me
|
| Look at what they made me
|
| I’m part of the reason they still Crippin' out in Brooklyn
|
| Before I was an artist I would book 'em, mm
|
| Push ya shit back while on them front line, nigga, ya lunch time
|
| I’m by them stop sign, you love that wi-fi
|
| On mamas for them dirty dollars, brains on collars
|
| Park the car around the corner, I’ll be there in a second
|
| The murder weapon on me, fuck if this bitch start flamin'
|
| The cops patrollin', get that punk ass American flag ceremony
|
| Aww, damn am I going too far?
|
| Give you some flavor to borrow
|
| Bitch yeah it came with the car
|
| It’s off-white, leveled the hard
|
| You ball, might come with a charge
|
| Your kids don’t know you no more
|
| Your girl’s draws stay on the floor
|
| No phone call accepted in weeks
|
| Your son picked up on your beef, real shit
|
| From gettin' lynched in field into ownin' buildings
|
| Getting millions, influencin' white children
|
| And oddly we still ain’t even
|
| Still a small percentage of blacks that’s eating
|
| Same routines, the same dope fiends
|
| Them nightmare dreams, forever murder season
|
| Bad intentions to them picket fences
|
| They gave us guns but won’t hire us, nigga?
|
| So we killin' senseless
|
| Homies murked on the bus benches
|
| Retaliation 'cause his mama cryin'
|
| Kept it gangsta 'til I modify 'em
|
| Rockabye, rockabye
|
| Feel the energy surge through my veins when I flow
|
| Mentally, I can never be controlled
|
| No sympathy for foes, my enemies exposed
|
| Will they remember me when I’m gone?
|
| I say rockabye, rockabye, rockabye baby
|
| Shotta boy, shotta boy, shotta go crazy
|
| Me nuh play games, so please don’t play me
|
| Look at what they made me |
Song information On this page you can find the lyrics of the song ROCKABYE BABY, artist - Joey Bada$$. Album song ALL-AMERIKKKAN BADA$$, in the genre Рэп и хип-хоп