Spitting Images

Yeah

Yeah

Let me show you where the story starts before I made my mark

On every corner park bench that played a part

Mom's joy, her baby boy, the smell of reefer

Sparkle the soundtrack, heard a young Aretha

Franklins, my pops on his paper chase

The only time that he stopped was to take a taste

Rolling Stone, hit a line, or he rolled a bone

Mom's screaming all in the phone, "When you coming home?"

Hanging out, out of my bed, she would bring me out

And ride around, look for this nigga, they would fight it out

Face pressed all on the glass, the tears running

I'm years from it, still the memories clear

Like the liquor that they drank after, tears laughter

They made love, then made war, life chapters

Here's a page, the edges torn, I still remain

Spitting image of both 'til they image fade

Yeah

Say a prayer for the niggas we lost, those behind the wall

Nights that we flirted with death, we could have lost it all

Hear the sound, rounds echo in the staircase

Niggas robbin' dealers for sport, and did it bare face

Standing at the top of the steps, saw the barrel raise

Nigga lookin' death in the face, wouldn't run his chain

Laughed at him, grabbed at him, then the trigger bang

Bullets flying right by my face, another bullet rang

Heart beating, so I reach for the gun

While these two niggas fighting, try to grab it and run

Throwing fists, niggas slippin' in piss

The gun fell, the stairwell was full of smoke

I just grabbed and squoze, I could have hit them both

Was so close, but life chose a different plan

Different route, I made it out and still remain

Spitting images until my image fades

Yeah

(Yeah)

(Yeah)

(Waited, but, but, but you ain't, but you ain't)

(Ain't coming down)