8Ball - America lyrics

It's goddamn insane when a
Grown-ass man complain
About the pain that he had
To maintain when all he got to do was use
His brain and make a change
That's goddamn insane

I'm a serial killer, spittin' murder words
Man, I was hard 'fore you
Niggas even heard of 'verts
I been runnin' with some hungry
Niggas out the wind
Ran through hell and I'm ready
To go back again
Mic in my hand, I'm not Afro or African
If anything, I'm an American nigga hustlin'
Dogs in the yard
And my jewelry got plenty rocks
Always loved BIG and motherfuckin' 2Pac
Keep it in the hood, keep it hood
Call me Robin Hood
Except I got a 45 when I'm tippin'
Grippin' wood i'm not a killer
I don't think I'm some ol' bad nigga
But when I'm with you I do
Keep my finger on the trigger
Niggas be snitchin' then go talk
About it with their bitches
Can't walk in public 'cause they scared
Them boys come and get them
I can't do nothin' for 'em
Can't do nothin' but ignore 'em
When they get him
He gon' wish he wasn't fuckin' born

America - Home of the free, land of the brave
That made every nigga like me

Wake it up, sleep for the weak and the broke
Nigga
Sun here shine like he live up on the coast
Nigga raw when I spit it
Take a minute 'for you really get it
Straight gutter lyrics like my
Motherfuckin' mouth shitted
I learned from niggas
Used to watch 'em now I'm livin' like 'em
Rich or poor, it's a bitch
Try'na break the cycle
My pops was in the streets so
Naturally I'm in the streets
Watchin' how the hustlers dress and
How them pimps speak
I took a page from the book
And wrote my own laws
No cut, straight dope, cooked up by 8 ball
Now they call me 8Ball, fat boy, tight flow
A little kid, he kinda good like a tight hoe
Hard top, black tint, whole car bulletproof
The body, the windows
The tires and the rims too
Hennessey and weed
I'm a fiend for the good dro
8Ball, fat boy, momma call me Premro

America - Home of the free, land of the brave
That made every niggaa like me

I come from Memphis, Tennessee
Whether you know it or not
The city where Martin Luther King got shot
My folks picked cotton, got no education
Fought and made it easier for my generation
And how we pay 'em back, we kill our own kind
Murder innocent niggas who grind
For they little shine go and do the time
Come back home like it's all fine
But all that weed and all that
Drink keep fuckin' with yo mind
Somebody look away and you be
Like a Pitt scratchin'
Ready to pull somethin' out and
Get to click clackin'
And you don't know that's what
They want you to do it's a trap
Made to catch up niggas like me and you
It's a shame all the petty shit
For bread we'll do
Send your soul straight to hell
Try'na keep up with your crew
My word's true, and I ain't never gon' front
I'm a field nigga, momma didn't raise no punk

America - Home of the free, land of the brave
That made every nigga like me