Diamond D - Bad/Good lyrics
[Diamond D - Bad/Good lyrics]
Yeah, yeah uhh, gotta watch your neck
C'mon, growin up in the X
We used to play manhunt, and steal your bikes
Fight off the older dudes who
Tried to steal your Nikes
Don't matter if you're outnumbered
Still you fight put a nigga in the yoke
Let him feel your bite
Livin in the devil's reach
Fuckin girls on the roof
We called it Pebble Beach
(yeah) and even though
We were kids, we still knew right from wrong
That's the premise
For me to even write this song
We laughed about who ran
Stick-up kids waitin outside of Jew man
(yeah)
And we idolized the neighborhood block stars
At night, throwin rocks at the cop cars
Shoot a fair one, you might get lumped
Fuck a fair one, you might get jumped
Knuckle up, or you might get chumped
Or in a car seat get left slumped BLAM BLAM
Listen
"Shit is real!" "Growin up in the hood"
"Done some things bad, done some things good"
Yeah, I used to
Run the streets but always got good grades
Reminiscencing on this shit
Blowin on good haze we used to do dumb shit
Growin up in the 'jects
Gettin head at Yankee Stadium
Up in the decks
You couldn't hop at one-sixty-first
And now we race each other
Bettin who could push one-sixty first
But, It wasn't always like that
We was broke and my father always liked
Smack - what could you do?
So my moms did the best she could for dolo
(yeah)
Workin in midtown for next to no dough
I know I put her through shit
So I'ma smile when I put her in the new six
(yeah) it's only right cause I know I
Used to be a mess
Did I deserve all the beatings
Or was it stress?
Cause, I put a few kids up in the EMS
I laugh about it now, cruisin in the CLS
Yeah, it's all funny when I think back
Sippin Private Stock
But now I don't drink that (nope)
Now I'm into mango juice and crushed grapes
(yes) we used to fiend for them
Clear Cold Crush tapes (yes)
And I went from hoppin
Trains and snatchin links
To ridin around with bombshells
In matchin minks
This is not rhethorical innuendo (yeah)
At house parties throwin leathers
Out the window, smarten up
I can tell you a dummy (uh huh)
You look soft, niggas sell you a dummy
You come back and get wrapped like a mummy
(a mummy) so you should always keep a
Pound by your tummy
And I possess a Dangerous Mind like Phifer
From listening to the Gods in the cipher
Seen a few dudes catch a universal
There's cameras in the 'jects
Live no commercial listen
C'mon, growin up in the X
We used to play manhunt, and steal your bikes
Fight off the older dudes who
Tried to steal your Nikes
Don't matter if you're outnumbered
Still you fight put a nigga in the yoke
Let him feel your bite
Livin in the devil's reach
Fuckin girls on the roof
We called it Pebble Beach
(yeah) and even though
We were kids, we still knew right from wrong
That's the premise
For me to even write this song
We laughed about who ran
Stick-up kids waitin outside of Jew man
(yeah)
And we idolized the neighborhood block stars
At night, throwin rocks at the cop cars
Shoot a fair one, you might get lumped
Fuck a fair one, you might get jumped
Knuckle up, or you might get chumped
Or in a car seat get left slumped BLAM BLAM
Listen
"Shit is real!" "Growin up in the hood"
"Done some things bad, done some things good"
Yeah, I used to
Run the streets but always got good grades
Reminiscencing on this shit
Blowin on good haze we used to do dumb shit
Growin up in the 'jects
Gettin head at Yankee Stadium
Up in the decks
You couldn't hop at one-sixty-first
And now we race each other
Bettin who could push one-sixty first
But, It wasn't always like that
We was broke and my father always liked
Smack - what could you do?
So my moms did the best she could for dolo
(yeah)
Workin in midtown for next to no dough
I know I put her through shit
So I'ma smile when I put her in the new six
(yeah) it's only right cause I know I
Used to be a mess
Did I deserve all the beatings
Or was it stress?
Cause, I put a few kids up in the EMS
I laugh about it now, cruisin in the CLS
Yeah, it's all funny when I think back
Sippin Private Stock
But now I don't drink that (nope)
Now I'm into mango juice and crushed grapes
(yes) we used to fiend for them
Clear Cold Crush tapes (yes)
And I went from hoppin
Trains and snatchin links
To ridin around with bombshells
In matchin minks
This is not rhethorical innuendo (yeah)
At house parties throwin leathers
Out the window, smarten up
I can tell you a dummy (uh huh)
You look soft, niggas sell you a dummy
You come back and get wrapped like a mummy
(a mummy) so you should always keep a
Pound by your tummy
And I possess a Dangerous Mind like Phifer
From listening to the Gods in the cipher
Seen a few dudes catch a universal
There's cameras in the 'jects
Live no commercial listen