Song information On this page you can find the lyrics of the song Things Change, artist - Spider Loc. Date of issue: 31.12.2004
Age restrictions: 18+
Song language: English
Things Change |
| Nigga things, change, never stay the same |
| Now watch me come up, I hustle, I hustle even harder |
| I put that work in to win, no problem |
| All money ain’t good money, this I know |
| But I still love hood money, I gets my dough |
| And as a youngster, a nigga went to so much church |
| And still turned out fucked up, I did so much dirt |
| Chose to bang the neighborhood, I put in so much work |
| Did a whole lot of time, caused mom so much hurt |
| On everythang, that boy wasn’t gunned on purpose |
| Who knew that all my darkness was really gon' surface |
| I was stuck on that bullshit, just runnin the streets |
| Without some type of beef the week wasn’t complete |
| It’s like a nigga feel better after dumpin his heat |
| On feet, just to see that body slumped in the seat |
| Was like a whole nother rush to me, bustin was sweet |
| Now I’m smarter, I’m all about somethin to eat |
| I’m on the road, spend 30 days a month in a suite |
| But I’m still gon' hustle and cheat, let’s go |
| Yeah, uhh, now walkin down the block without’cha weapon |
| Is a first class ticket to a lesson |
| I thirst cash, kick it to perfection, me and Ben got a connection |
| That’s why I bring the Benz to impress him |
| Heart in my zone, all alone homes rattle in my bones |
| Cause he yappin off his lips and if I hit him I’ll be wrong |
| Cause he ain’t never gon' be shit, and I done worked so hard |
| But I will make you a corn on the cob, you’ll be performin for God |
| Either that or rob you on your boulevard |
| Bet you never thought for a second niggas’d pull your card God |
| I’m on my job, scarred since my nigga gone |
| HP tatted on me so his memory lives on |
| Engagin in drama without your bomber’ll |
| Be funeral arrangements for your mama |
| I learned that when I was in pajamas watchin Michael and Madonna |
| Now I got the appetite of a pirahna, nigga |
| What nobody knows, all the roads you go through |
| You can’t even talk to those that supposedly know you |
| Some of the levels that these people’ll go to for crumbs |
| Damn, tell me, is this what that dough do? |
| That’s when you find yourself talkin to Pro Tools |
| There’s not too many that ever walked in the Loc shoes |
| Or tell the tale that my heart contains |
| I explain, so many different parts of pain |
| I’m clean, but still some marks remain |
| From the past, when that kush weed sparks the brain |
| The cash made some people start to change |
| I feel hate when I pulled up and parked the Range |
| Your damn right I got rich, but my heart the same |
| And practice makes perfect with the art of aim |
| You ain’t really got the heart to bang |
| You ain’t start to hang, 'til you found out I caught the chain |