Vince Staples, Larry Fisherman, Schoolboy Q - Back Sellin’ Crack lyrics

[Vince Staples, Larry Fisherman, Schoolboy Q - Back Sellin’ Crack lyrics]

I done beat the brakes off niggas
Shot the face off niggas
Pending case with the state
And I'm still out trippin'
All the feds take pictures
Fuckin' up my image
Even mama bringin' drama
I don't trust no bitches
See these hoes be out
Here switching their sides
When it's time for the killin' i ride
Look right in my eyes, been ready to die
Risk felony time for threatening
Mine, better than I, nobody alive
Nobody live the life that I did
Fighting to live since I was kid
Playing in the yard with a 30-06
House look like a gun range
Room look like a gun store
Either you're gonna know my name
Or niggas dying young and poor
Either way don't give a fuck
You gon' find me northbound
With the shit, I'm in the shit
You know I love them gun sounds
7's cry, macs applaud, they taking shots
I had to call
You catch 'em out the shot gun
That's Roddy White from 50 yards
No body shots, I'm hitting jaws
Tryna run you Stephen Hawking
You see I mean this shit I'm talking
You don't want no problem

Slave to the rhythm
Shoot my master in his back
Two dope boys, in the Cadillac strapped
Wood grain dash, windshield stained glass
Beatin' down the ave
Like we back sellin' crack
Killin' for the karma, but livin' for my mama
Trouble what the call us
And nothing what they offer
Off 'em, and they wonder why niggas get shot
And they wonder why niggas shot

Where you at
Where you from? Cause it's hot where I'm at
Any time of the day you
Get robbed or get jumped
It’s a game that we play, to get paid
For the wants and the needs of the young
Snakes slide through the grass
Blades slide in the back of
The used and abused tryna walk in my shoes
Get tripped by my fuse, too short
Ask God what you want
He said I want your life
Well I ain't live mines right
But if I do the crime then I do the time
I ain't scared of shit, I was born to die
Extended clip, big 45, been quick to trip
And been lost my mind, when I die
Please don't let mama cry
Cause she know it had to be him or I
And I got caught slippin'
Get a gun and go knock that nigga
Run up on him, no mask, no feelings
No room for that
They shoot at us, then we shootin' back
Burnin' shells till I burn in hell
And I'm cool with that, that uzi packed
I done learned a lot in these 19 years
Lotta homies ain't shed one tear
God decide what my curfew is
So till the day, I'mma do my shit
I proved my shit, they know my name
Not proud of the outcome
Either have regrets or
Be out young, don't sleep
Slave to the rhythm
Shoot my master in his back
Two dope boys, in the Cadillac strapped
Wood grain dash, windshield stained glass
Beatin' down the ave
Like we back sellin' crack
Killin' for the karma, but livin' for my mama
Trouble what the call us
And nothing what they offer
Off 'em, and they wonder why niggas get shot
And they wonder why niggas shot

I took tHe blue pill and
It's evidence was sHown
Homies from elementary some tHem niggas gone
I got tHis cocaine but my
Stove ain't turning on
I got tHat knock-knock, uh, yeaH you know
Riding in tHe wHip for sure
No Ls in tHe wHip for sure
All tHe Homies strapped but it ain't for sHow
Tryna Hit a lick, no envelope
Nigga, weed ain't tHe only tHing get smoked
Cuz got gHost 'fore He even got gHost
Cuz got toast and He ain't
Old enougH to drink sHouldn't been singing
Now His ass Murder Inc
Sunny LA, wHere we never need a mink
Sunny LA, wHere tHe youngins don't tHink
Sunny LA, wHere tHe Heat get sprayed
And every otHer word on tHe wall get K'ed
All the Homies Hanging in your parking space
THis my set, I ain't Hearing wHatcha say
Back tHen Had to be in by 10 but out by 12
Mom made it safe to work
I got tHe text on tHe cell
Back witH tHe Locs all raising Hell
Found out tHe Homie in a cell
I know He Hated school
But it's better tHan jail
Gotta tHank God I was saved by tHe bell
Tryna spit bars
I ain't trying to live beHind 'em
So I keep my face Here rigHt wHen I find tHem
Nigga my rawness fuck tHrougH a condom
Ready wHen I'm rapping
No wonder wHy tHey signed Him
Done witH the House licks
So wHatcha still pining
Dead by tHe street ligHts, boy you sHining
Talk about you grinding figg side!

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