Song information On this page you can find the lyrics of the song Ya Want Sum a Dis, artist - South Central Cartel. Album song South Central Madness, in the genre Иностранный рэп и хип-хоп
Date of issue: 22.09.2016
Age restrictions: 18+
Record label: PUMP
Song language: English
Ya Want Sum a Dis |
You start to sway as the story begins to flow |
Another solo, no, but it’s another duo |
Prodeje hit the map, so zap your back up |
Another tale of how a gangsta came up |
When I was adolescent my mother tried to school me |
But I was wild and acted unruly |
So told me, «Yo Prodeje, you could die,» but I said, «So?» |
Cause sooner or later we all gotta go |
I hit the streets and it was on, like Al Capone |
I let my khakis hang low when I roam |
I come from the heart of South Central |
It ain’t no joke, and if you choke, it’s on the gunsmoke |
Now broke as a muthafucka I started to serve |
Hangin on the corners gettin on the people’s nerves |
And when the cops tried to catch me |
They don’t get shit because a nigga’s too slick |
I run in an alley and throw my nine in the trees |
Jumpin over fences until I couldn’t breathe |
The other level of walkin the streets |
Is way deeper than a nigga bullshittin over beats |
The breaks are hard times and county is a pitstop |
Before your ass is smoked, another hardknock |
Spittin the dope shit, punk, protect yourself |
I started with a nine, now I fear for health |
I got a .38 scar, reminder of my first slip |
I had a job, but see, some niggas still trip |
Call me a sucker, but yo, I’m down for some scrappin |
I socked one in the head, then the other started cappin |
It left the Prodeje scarred for life |
Now I’m doin drive-by's and takin niggas' life |
It’s deeper than death, in the hood it’s even deeper still |
The cops hate me, they want my cap peeled |
Another brother you hate to see |
Gettin paid, cause some fear young niggas like me |
(Boom-boom-boom on your black ass) |
(You want some of this?) |
(Then you’re a stupid muthafucka) |
Another flow, nigga move slow or get your ass kicked |
Another gangsta with the shit you can’t fuck with |
I got a heart of steel and a fist of hell |
A couple .44, I’m backed by the Cartel |
I got a bitch that will kick you in the ass a little |
I let the khakis hang low like a criminal |
Prodeje said, «Yo Havikk, nigga, kick the real shit |
In case a nigga try to ride on your dick» |
They call me low-key cause I roam and I pump lead |
And put the chrome to the dome of a nigga’s head |
And then the bodies start to calculate |
On the corner I stand with the gees from upstate |
The people don’t know but I’m a loco |
Hey yo, I been on the run for a year in South Central |
The five-o's roll, they got my name and age ready, yo |
I may be Jonathan, James or (?) |
I get away, laugh and say fuck em all |
Get the spraypaint and strike upon the people’s wall |
Deep in the Central it’s hell, so when you stroll through |
Watch your ass, muthafucka, or you die too |
The sun don’t shine in my city |
Cause you get smoked, broked and choked, it’s crazy, no joke |
Cause I run game and I slang lley |
And I pimp hoes and keepin dough with high-priced clothes |
My moms didn’t know how I was livin |
Cause I told lies to keep the tears out her sad brown eyes |
I kept a nine handy for a drive-by |
In case I had to sing a punk fool a lullaby |
Yo, another day, another dead-ass muthafucka |
Caught slippin, now he’s six feet under |
Cause crime don’t pay but crime is life, death and pain |
So duck low when my nine goes bang |
(Boom-boom-boom on your black ass) |
(You want some of this?) |
(Then you’re a stupid muthafucka) |