Jim Jones, Denise Weeks - My Diary lyrics
[Jim Jones, Denise Weeks - My Diary lyrics]
Pardon the Syzzrup
Now we try corners old folks try and warn us
The cops try and swarm us
Blocks hot like saunas
Well fuck it I'mma risk it
Got a blunt nigga twist it
Imma get drunk with my biscuit
5 cent cup, take a sip kid
I'mma product of the p-jects
My teachers always told me that
I'd prolly be a reject
I came up by my lonely now
I'm a product of that D-Set
Two twelvin with my homie
He caught a homi of that Dwyck
He said it had him zonin' left
The body in bulding three steps
The project now on fire every
Where you see the detects
His high is coming down cause
Now he's nervous smokin bogies
And now he findin out that
Fuckin murder was his co-D
And this the shit that happens all
Too often up in Harlem
No shit you smell a rat you
Better off him whats the problem
In this business sellin crack we cook that
Raw shit up to hard shit
And tell my fellas that and to my
Coffin steady mobbin' to my coffin
Steady mobbin'
Take a look into my eyes and you'll
See all the pain the ghetto brings
Take a journey through my soul and lets
Roll through the streets of reality
They tell me slow down I'm livin' life
Fast See they don't all wanna ride with me
I know it ain't right but this is my life
It's just a piece of my diary yeah
Now, we ran wreckless
No grown-ups to guide us
So it's the man what you expect
I've grown-up to violence
I had my eye up on the pushers
The ones that stay fly
Fiends got high off the suga
You know that ain't riiight that sweet cane
Some got buried to the street game
My niggas only worried bout the
Jewelry and the street fame
And what the bitches thought of them
It's all about the money
Well shit I cop some Porsche or trucks
'Member I was hungry
I was whippin in the Corsica
Hoopty muthafucka, hoppin the double four's
My pants droopy muthafuckas
And pardon my grammar, my nana died '95
So I done left my heart wit my grandma
I hid outside and played the
Park wit the hammer
And I'm watchin for the narcs
They movin cars with antennas
Thug and respect
For all my goons behind bars in the slammas
To my G's on Rikers
To all my three time lifers
This is my life we die
Young cause we livin fast
So I'mma let you read my diary
I'mma let you read my dairy
Now lets ride
(to where) , to Harlem, the Westside
I show you blocks and murals
Dawg where some of the best died
(Like wholike who?) Like Porter and them
I heard Po put the order on him
Now that's more than a friend!
But he stitched of course
Now let's talk about Fritz the boss
And he got rich off snort
They said 500 bricks was brought
So in hindsight
It's a shorty who couldn't get
A gist of his thought
But if you grind right wit the snorpy
A whip could be bought
Now think about po-9, if it caught me
How it get you in court
But now the feds, they still tailin me
DA think he nailin me
I had to turn in the goons come
And post the bail for me
Still in the Byrd Gang myself
You say Byrd Gang is wealth
And all the liquor stores
Man the Syzzurp on the shelf
I rose from the dump you
See, now it's Dipset
Byrd Gang you know the company
Now we try corners old folks try and warn us
The cops try and swarm us
Blocks hot like saunas
Well fuck it I'mma risk it
Got a blunt nigga twist it
Imma get drunk with my biscuit
5 cent cup, take a sip kid
I'mma product of the p-jects
My teachers always told me that
I'd prolly be a reject
I came up by my lonely now
I'm a product of that D-Set
Two twelvin with my homie
He caught a homi of that Dwyck
He said it had him zonin' left
The body in bulding three steps
The project now on fire every
Where you see the detects
His high is coming down cause
Now he's nervous smokin bogies
And now he findin out that
Fuckin murder was his co-D
And this the shit that happens all
Too often up in Harlem
No shit you smell a rat you
Better off him whats the problem
In this business sellin crack we cook that
Raw shit up to hard shit
And tell my fellas that and to my
Coffin steady mobbin' to my coffin
Steady mobbin'
Take a look into my eyes and you'll
See all the pain the ghetto brings
Take a journey through my soul and lets
Roll through the streets of reality
They tell me slow down I'm livin' life
Fast See they don't all wanna ride with me
I know it ain't right but this is my life
It's just a piece of my diary yeah
Now, we ran wreckless
No grown-ups to guide us
So it's the man what you expect
I've grown-up to violence
I had my eye up on the pushers
The ones that stay fly
Fiends got high off the suga
You know that ain't riiight that sweet cane
Some got buried to the street game
My niggas only worried bout the
Jewelry and the street fame
And what the bitches thought of them
It's all about the money
Well shit I cop some Porsche or trucks
'Member I was hungry
I was whippin in the Corsica
Hoopty muthafucka, hoppin the double four's
My pants droopy muthafuckas
And pardon my grammar, my nana died '95
So I done left my heart wit my grandma
I hid outside and played the
Park wit the hammer
And I'm watchin for the narcs
They movin cars with antennas
Thug and respect
For all my goons behind bars in the slammas
To my G's on Rikers
To all my three time lifers
This is my life we die
Young cause we livin fast
So I'mma let you read my diary
I'mma let you read my dairy
Now lets ride
(to where) , to Harlem, the Westside
I show you blocks and murals
Dawg where some of the best died
(Like wholike who?) Like Porter and them
I heard Po put the order on him
Now that's more than a friend!
But he stitched of course
Now let's talk about Fritz the boss
And he got rich off snort
They said 500 bricks was brought
So in hindsight
It's a shorty who couldn't get
A gist of his thought
But if you grind right wit the snorpy
A whip could be bought
Now think about po-9, if it caught me
How it get you in court
But now the feds, they still tailin me
DA think he nailin me
I had to turn in the goons come
And post the bail for me
Still in the Byrd Gang myself
You say Byrd Gang is wealth
And all the liquor stores
Man the Syzzurp on the shelf
I rose from the dump you
See, now it's Dipset
Byrd Gang you know the company