Lyrics

What money got to do with it When I don't know the full definition of a rap image? I'm trapped inside the ghetto and I ain't proud to admit it Institutionalized, I keep runnin' back for a visit Hol' up, get it back I said I'm trapped inside the ghetto and I ain't proud to admit it Institutionalized, I could still kill me a nigga, so what? If I was the president I'd pay my mama's rent Free my homies and them Bulletproof my Chevy doors Lay in the White House and get high, Lord Who ever thought? Master, take the chains off me! Zoom Zoom Zoom Zoom Zoom Zoom, Zoom, Zoom Zoom Zoom Zoom Zoom Zoom Zoom, Zoom, Zoom Shit Life can be like a box of chocolate Quid pro quo, somethin' for somethin', that's the obvious Oh shit, flow's so sick, don't you swallow it Bitin' my style, you're salmonella poison positive I can just alleviate the rap industry politics Milk the game up, never lactose intolerant The last remainder of real shit, you know the obvious Me, scholarship? No, streets put me through colleges Be all you can be, true, but the problem is Dream only a dream if work don't follow it Remind me of the homies that used to know me, now follow this I'll tell you my hypothesis, I'm probably just way too loyal K Dizzle will do it for you, my niggas think I'm a god Truthfully all of 'em spoiled, usually you're never charged But somethin' came over you once I took you to the fuckin' BET Awards You lookin' at artists' like the harvests So many Rollies around you and you want all of them Somebody told me you thinkin' 'bout snatchin' jewelry I should've listened when my grandmama said to me Shit don't change until you get up and wash yo' ass, nigga Shit don't change until you get up and wash yo' ass, boy Shit don't change until you get up and wash yo' ass, nigga Oh now, slow down And once upon a time, in a city so divine Called West Side Compton, there stood a little nigga He was 5 foot something, God bless the kid Took his homie to the show and this is what they said Fuck am I 'posed to do when I'm lookin' at walkin' licks? The constant big money talk 'bout the mansion and foreign whips The private jets and passport, presidential glass floor Gold bottles, gold models, sniffin' up the ass for Instagram flicks, suckin dick, fuck is this? One more sucker wavin' wit a flashy wrist My defense, mechanism tell me to get him Quickly because he got it It's a recession, then why the fuck he at King of Diamonds? No more livin' poor, meet my four-four When I see 'em, put the per diem on the floor Now Kendrick, know they're your co-workers But it's gon' take a lot for this pistol go cold turkey Now I can watch his watch on the TV and be okay But see I'm on the clock once that watch landin' in LA Remember steal from the rich and givin' it back to the poor? Well that's me at these awards I guess my grandmama was warnin' a boy She said... Shit don't change until you get up and wash yo' ass, nigga Shit don't change until you get up and wash yo' ass, boy Shit don't change until you get up and wash yo' ass, nigga Oh now, slow down And once upon a time, in a city so divine Called West Side Compton, there stood a little nigga He was 5 foot something, dazed and confused Talented but still under the neighborhood ruse You can take your boy out the hood but you can't take the hood out the homie Took his show money, stashed it in the mozey wozey Hollywood's nervous Fuck you, goodnight, thank you much for your service
Writer(s): Rakaa Taylor, Michael Taylor Perretta, Christopher Martin, Christopher E. Oroc Lyrics powered by www.musixmatch.com
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