Song information On this page you can find the lyrics of the song Why Oh Why, artist - Spearhead. Album song Chocolate Supa Highway, in the genre Иностранный рэп и хип-хоп
Date of issue: 31.12.1996
Age restrictions: 18+
Record label: Capitol
Song language: English
Why Oh Why |
I say my prayers every morning just like orange juice |
I crack the crinkles out my body till I’m feeling loose |
I strap my sneakers on my feet like they was combat boots |
they fit my feet like Cinderella when I’m shooting hoops |
Why oh why do memories keep chasing me sometimes it makes me wanna grab my shit and flee |
sometimes I wanna blow my brains to put my life at ease |
but I ain’t clocking out I gotta see the seven seas |
please seven’s a very lucky number for me that was the age when I discovered how good balling could be up every morning with the birdies doing little drills |
go to my left go to my right developing mad skills |
how could a love for this game bring so much sadness |
I played with brothas with so much badness |
but now they gone I sing a song pop a three |
from the top of the key in they memory |
Why oh Why do memories be chasing me sometimes it makes me wanna grab my shit and flee |
even in seasons when it’s another color sport |
I still be memorizing lines out on the basketball court singing |
Why oh Why do memories be chasing me sometimes it makes me wanna grab my shit and flee |
even in seasons when it’s another color sport |
I be remembering my partners on the basketball court |
Do you remember runnin’the court in September |
me and my homies be down for whoever |
would come along and try to send us to the showers |
from the game that we’d been dominating’there for hours |
all day to be more specific east to west |
from Atlantic to Pacific fools would come round |
to get down and try to take our crown |
but we would hold our ground and we would never back down |
old timers new timers would get in line there |
and take a seat there and try to prepare |
but oh no! |
there was no chance when we was in the zone |
we was alone at the top we had hops we got props |
and when we needed to we busted chops |
wipe the court with your game like we was using mops |
what ever happened to the super hoopers in the park |
I reminisce while shootin’solitary after dark |
Brother C came fresh from out of town |
and he had handles and like McDonald’s he could clown ya dribbling baby bounces between drinking forty ounces |
knock ya on your heels and do circles like he was Curly Neal |
but oh no, the liquor got quicker to his head and he said |
I think I musta placed some stupid bets |
he hit me up for some cash |
there was a car crash a splash and then the brother made a mad dash |
Rob oh Rob his whole life was like a roller coaster |
but on the court he looked like a Dr. J poster |
flying high with an Afro blowing in the wind |
wiping Windex, index finger rolls off the glass |
then swish through the net jump a Corvette with a triple pirouette |
but off the court he had a few temptations copulations |
no moderations by 24 he had 3 pregnations |
last check crack intoxications |
so many other brothers gone from this dimension |
and none of those who got hurt receive a pension |
give a Bup! |
Bup! |
to those locked up in detention |
memories too many dimension |
and we say, one more time… one more time |