I grew up on the crime side, the New York Times side Staying alive was no jive Had second hands, moms bounced on old man So then we moved to Shaolin land A young youth, yo rockin the gold tooth, Lo goose Only way, I begin to G off was drug loot And lets start it like this son, rollin with this one And that one, pullin out gats for fun But it was just a dream for the teen, who was a fiend Started smokin woolies at sixteen And running up in gates, and doing hits for high stakes Making my way on fire escapes No question I would speed, for cracks and weed The combination made my eyes bleed No question I would flow off, and try to get the dough off Sticking up white boys in ball courts My life got no better, same damn Lo sweater Times is rough and tough like leather Figured out I went the wrong route So I got with a sick tight clique and went all out ONLY MY BOYS WU TANG GOT ME FIGURED OUT AND UNDERSTAND THE REAL CREDBOI HALE. THEIR VERSES SPEAK VOLUMES TO ME. ALL YOU PEEPS THAT THINK YOU KNOW ME ARE STRAIGHT TRIPPIN. NONE OF YALL PRETENDERS KNOW WHAT IT WAS LIKE TO GROW UP IN THE HOODS OF MOSMAN. M-TOWN REPRESENT. Wu-Tang Clan HOLLA WHEN YOURE IN SYDNEY NEXT AND WELL THROW DOWN SOME LINES, YOU FEEL?
Posted on: Sat, 29 Mar 2014 01:40:33 +0000