Listen to My Summer Vacation by Ice Cube

My Summer Vacation

Ice Cube

Hip-Hop/Rap

Music Video

13 - Ice Cube -My Summer Vacation
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Credits

PERFORMING ARTISTS
Ice Cube
Ice Cube
Vocals
George Clinton
George Clinton
Sampled Artist
COMPOSITION & LYRICS
David L. Spradley
David L. Spradley
Songwriter
O'Shea Jackson
O'Shea Jackson
Songwriter
Garry Marshall Shider
Garry Marshall Shider
Songwriter
PRODUCTION & ENGINEERING
Ice Cube
Ice Cube
Producer
Mr. Stoker
Mr. Stoker
Recording Engineer
Brian Gardner
Brian Gardner
Mastering Engineer
Boogie Men
Boogie Men
Producer
DJ Pooh
DJ Pooh
Mixing Engineer
Sir Jinx
Sir Jinx
Mixing Engineer

Lyrics

This is the final boarding call for flight 1259 Departing from Los Angeles, final destination to St. Louis Thank you Damn G, the spot's gettin hot So how the fuck am I supposed to make a knot? Police looking at niggaz through a microscope In L.A. everybody and they momma sell dope They trying to stop it So what the fuck can I do to make a profit? Catch a flight to St. Louis That's cool, 'cause nobody knew us We stepped off the plane Four gang bangers, professional crack slangers Rented a car at Wholesale Drove to the ghetto, and checked in a motel Unpacked and I grabbed the 3.80 Cos where we staying, niggaz look shady But they can't fade South Central 'Cause busting a cap is fundamental Peeping out every block close Seeing which one will clock the most Yeah, this is the one, no doubt Bust a U Bone, and let's clear these niggaz out (Hey! Hey man! Whassup nigga? This is Lynch Mob nigga) Now clearing them out meant casualties Still had the L.A. mentality Bust a cap, and outta there in a hurry Wouldn't you know, a drive-by in Missouri Them fools got popped Took their corner next day, set up shop And it's better than slanging in the Valley Triple the profit making more than I did in Cali' Breaking up rocks like Barney Rubble 'Cause them mark-ass niggaz don't want trouble And we ain't on edge when we do work Police don't recognize the khakis and the sweatshirts Getting bitches and they can't stand a 1991 Tony Montana Now the shit's like a war, Gang violence Where it was never seen before Punks run when the gats bust Four jheri curled niggaz kicking up dust And some of them are even looking up to us Wearing our colors and talking that gang Fuck Giving up much much love Dying for a street that they ain't never heard of But other motherfuckers want to stand strong So you know the phrase, "once again it's on" At the top of the news tonight A gang from South Central Los Angeles Which are known for their drive-by shootings Have migrated into east St. Louis leaving three dead and two others injured No arrests have been made Police say this is a nation-wide trend, with similar incidents occurring in Texas, Michigan, and Oklahoma "If it can happen here, it can happen anywhere") BOOM, my homie got shot he's a gunner black St. Louis niggaz want they cornerback Shooting in snowy weather It's illegal business, niggaz still can't stick together Fuckin police got the 411 That L.A. ain't all, surf and sun But we ain't thinking bout them boys Feudin, like the Hatfields and McCoys Now the shit's gettin tricky 'Cause now they looking for tha colorz and the Dickie's Damn, the spot's getting hot from the battle I'm about to pack up and start slinging in Seattle But the NARCs, raid about six in the morning Try to catch a nigga while he's yawning Put his glock to my chest as I paused Went to jail in my motherfuckin drawers Tryin to give me, fifty-seven years Face will be full of those tattooed tears It's the same old story and the same old nigga stuck And the public defender ain't givin a fuck The fool must be sparkin Talkin about a double life plea bargain You got to deal with the Crips and Bloods by hand G Plus the Black Guerilla family And the white pride don't like Northside And it's a riot if any more niggaz die No parole or probation Now this is a young man's Summer Vacation No chance for rehabilitation 'Cause look at the muthafucking years that I'm facing I'ma end it like this 'cause you know what's up My life is fucked (Police eat a dick, straight up) Look here you little goddamn nigger You're not gatling nobody, you fuckin' understand me?! That's right, now get down on the goddamn Ground! now! Fuckin' move! now!) (Let me take a shot at him!) We gonna do you like King (What goddamn King?) Rodney King, Martin Luther King, and all the Goddamn kings of Africa! (Look out motherfucka!)
Writer(s): O'shea Jackson, George Clinton Jr., Garry Marshall Shider, David Lee Spradley Lyrics powered by www.musixmatch.com
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