Текст песни
Yeah, what's up Connor?
This is no difference from New Orleans or Flint
You have real ones up north, you have real ones down south
It doesn't matter if you up north or down south
The same rules still apply
It's time to separate the real from the fake, believe that
Born in an economy that can only thrive if we live in poverty
Ready to die for hoods but don't none of us own the property
Watching how drama block our progression, bring out the Pac in me
Getting shot for your pockets, fulfilling ominous prophecies
Look, brother brother shoot each other over nothing
Self-destruction help corruption, throw a glitch in how we function
Putting money over morals, we get nickels, pennies, quarters
While these corporate motherfuckers make a life you can't afford
I can't ignore it, it's distorted, how we forfeit most our portion?
Get awards and get rewarded to hide the fact we getting shorted
And extorted from these athletes to recording
I ain't wanna be like Mike, I want
Bread like whoever paying Michael Jordan
On some horses, get endorsements, I peep game, I absorb it
Social media play with you, it's absorbing your endorphins
Causing tragedy and I realize it's all a part of a strategy
Even if you free you still locked in a mentality
Cause I'm from where the...
Trap boys hang at, dope boys slang at
Young boys bang at, ain't nothing gon' change that
Where the real niggas stay at, soldiers get paid at
OGs raised at, ain't nothing gon' change that
If you 'bout your hustle, if you know the struggle
We was taught to get it, get it, get it (get it on the floor)
If you 'bout your hustle, if you know the struggle
We was taught to get it, get it, get it (get it on the floor)
Been in the hood like Takavaka and choppers along with robbers
I'm OG like Fed time still rocking Pradas
Used to scale the nicest, I cut you before the prices
No talking on devices, you get us hunted like ISIS
Yeah I'm house, they lining up, they coming back
Sold more weed in rap bars than Ross and sold flats
Hustle super sweet as a Ring Pop
We all move chickens like Wing Stop and this a machine Glock
Red beam with clean stock, I ratta-tatta
Disasters destroy your matter, our parents to you ain't matter
I talk real brolic and finish the shit I started
Need no permission, I'm heartless, don't be a target
The prices depend on the market, test it then spark it
Shorty jive, leave the keys, hop out the van when parked it
Being international Jones, hear me in stereo
Forget a fish fry for a burial, can't be scary yo
Trap boys hang at, dope boys slang at
Young boys bang at, ain't nothing gon' change that
Where the real niggas stay at, soldiers get paid at
OGs raised at, ain't nothing gon' change that
If you 'bout your hustle, if you know the struggle
We was taught to get it, get it, get it (get it on the floor)
If you 'bout your hustle, if you know the struggle
We was taught to get it, get it, get it (get it on the floor)
I was the mack before Makaveli's tatted belly
Black and revolutionary, black and ready
To attack the very system that'll bury me and mines
These ain't rhymes, this is mass destruction
This is we ain't asking nothing, what you always what you up in
Why you clutching if you bluffing, talking tough and soft as muffins
Must be huffing paint or something, got you buzzing hurting
Nothing cause I talk it like I bring it, that's word to F.I
You get in my way I'll burn this bitch down, word to Left Eye
Kells on the beat again, featuring Fiend and him
The Mecca Don Dada, Jon Connor, we back on the street again
Creeping in, your secret meetings and round tables
I'm down and able to cut a clown's cable from Crown to Naval
I'm certified, oh you never heard of I?
They call me the truth, well baby most of 'em serving lies
And they know what they did to me, but they couldn't get rid of me
Cause they know every bit of me is the epitome of a soldier