Deep Down — Mr. Doctor: letras e videoclipes das músicas e shows

Deep Down

275Gangsta Rap2014

Informações da música

Deep Down foi lançado em 3 de outubro de 2014 por Black Market Records como parte do álbum The Best of Mr. Doctor (Deluxe Version)

ÁlbumThe Best of Mr. Doctor (Deluxe Version)

3 de outubro de 2014

SeloBlack Market Records

IdiomaEnglish

BPM75

Melodicidade

Acusticidade

Valence

Dançabilidade

Energia

RESUMO

LETRA

Vídeo da música

Vídeo da música

Letra

Yeah, I could load a 9 up everyday, but why

My loccs told me homie make them tapes

And keep that 24 block alive

But if I feel I'm in need, I got's to ride

Carry a 9 for straight business, not just a side

Man it's the night-mare, creepin up in the cut

I'm hittin' dice games, barbeques, no matter what

The things I've seen'll make ya throw up

Flaunt your flag, shoot your gats, hit your dank

Where I'm from that's how ya grow up

Man, it's that wicked and 9 millimeter

Carrier bein' stereotyped daily

Ya gots to feel me, foo, it's that baby

Killas run around everyday, that's why I'm strapped

Ya heard it, I got my own back-fade

Out into the 'Lac and hit the city of Sac

Them homies given me dap

But you got them fools that want a funk then

They wonderin' why I'm carryin' me a 12 gauge pump

Man, I ain't no punk

The average everyday thug that's how it sounds

I'm defendin' myself, I'm loadin that mili'

And leavin' 'em layin'

Deep down, there's a place for hope

I guess it's hard to explain why I'm feelin' how I'm feelin'

I guess I'm feelin' sorrow cus my homies got some steel in 'em

And foos would say that it's my fault I bet

Cecause I wasn't strapped, yo, but I gave up my set

How could I know that them fools would blast?

Later on, on my folks

It's funny how this bangin's got it's different strokes

I think about my loccs and how they made it

Though I'm stressin' off the fact

They gotta suffer from a bullet hole

And Mr. Doctor just don't have hope, locc

It's only been a month, since my last down partner got smoked

And rivals is deep, up in my city, foo

Since I'm on the underground team, I can't have no pity

My life is tore up so I guess I'm stuck

Yeah, I got my St. Ides, I'm turnin' it up

To get drunk, then I pour some on the street

While I say to myself, for the blocc

Homie, rest in peace

They say that ain't the way to handle that type funk

But now I'm loadin' up the strap, smokin' on that blunt

Just 'cause a Brotha Hung his flag up, what that mean? I can't ride?

YG's all in my face, I'm 'bout to help them ride

I keep a low pro, drink the 4-0

And lounge until it's time to go

Shinin' up the forty-fo

And rollin' up the boogey-boo, indo

And hopin' if I should die, before I'm high

That they bury me in 50 pounds of Chocolate Thai

I got them homies from the South Side givin' it up and

Them homies from the East Side slangin' that stuff and

I'm right up in the middle tryin' to hang on and

Tryin' not to end up like the homie doin' time in the pen

But then again

I'm down for when the homies is ready to roll 'em up

You know, sticky in a dark blue Cut'

And as I'm creepin' through ya set

Trip, don't get caught up, shot up

The Garden Blocc loccs, man, we leave 'em layin'

Written by: Kevin Mann

Rodapé do Shazam

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