Warren G, Black Nicc, Travis Barker - What's Wrong lyrics
Travis Barker [Travis Landon Barker] Fontana, California, U.S. 🇺🇸
[Warren G, Black Nicc, Travis Barker - What's Wrong lyrics]
Halla, listen
My cousin got 15, he was only 18
Cops hopping out like they the A Team
Chilly in the projects, picturing that rock
Same old old head sitting on the block
I was wild as a ghetto child
Mean mugging out
Used to had a kool-aid smile tuesday night
We came up to the ring with the heaters
Fight broke out they let it out on tweeters
So momma say, Halla, take care of your kids
And never do dirt and business where you live
Stress give niggers more reasons to get high
And hit the thing once and swear
To god they could fly, bye
I'm off to the turf if they let me
He game bring the hood like the
Set going to accept me
It's all in the day of the
Life from where I'm from
I'm not a statistic, cause I made twenty-one
What's wrong, What's wrong
What's wrong, What's wrong
I think I need to ask somebody
I need to ask my uncle Marvin
What's wrong, What's wrong
What's wrong, What's wrong
I need to ask somebody
Let's speak for the hood, baby
Homies are out here crying
My granny telling me I need to go to church
The homies in the hood telling me to do dirt
It ain't shit changed, yo
We in the same game it's hard to get a job
When you live with cocaine
My brother is a gangster
My uncle is a banger living in the projects
Looking out for danger
Crookedwith a hanger you can
See it locking up
Yeah, the fierce on my ass they
Don't want to see me up
I hear the streets talking, we all need help
Keep some real niggers with you
Cause it's hard by yourself
I'm speaking for the hood, yeah
I'm straight off the block
Where it's hard to get sleep
You hear them gun shots
In the studio apartment
Your baby's still starving
What the fuck is going on, ask uncle Marvin
The homies in the hood telling me to do dirt
But my granny telling me
You should go to church (church)
We used to steal fifths
Put on our big brother clothes
Slide up to king park and
Try to mack some hoes
Took one to knew us, yeah that was my home
When the sheriff killed my home boy, t-bone
Tyrone hanging with the D boys
Chilling with the crooks
Killing the game with? and Ronnie Brooks
We used to run shit up under that bridge
Smoking coochy and brig, that's how we lived
Me fruity baby pop, rowdy little kids
Things changed nowadays you're some
Rowdy little kids
Up about the park when we heard that lit
(pop pop pop) and the next thing you know
Louis lost his leg now we ducking the police
And dodging the feds
Fuck hustling, I'd rather get a job instead
Fuck struggling, I can make money
Doing these songs
Cause your closest home boy
Would do you wrong
My cousin got 15, he was only 18
Cops hopping out like they the A Team
Chilly in the projects, picturing that rock
Same old old head sitting on the block
I was wild as a ghetto child
Mean mugging out
Used to had a kool-aid smile tuesday night
We came up to the ring with the heaters
Fight broke out they let it out on tweeters
So momma say, Halla, take care of your kids
And never do dirt and business where you live
Stress give niggers more reasons to get high
And hit the thing once and swear
To god they could fly, bye
I'm off to the turf if they let me
He game bring the hood like the
Set going to accept me
It's all in the day of the
Life from where I'm from
I'm not a statistic, cause I made twenty-one
What's wrong, What's wrong
What's wrong, What's wrong
I think I need to ask somebody
I need to ask my uncle Marvin
What's wrong, What's wrong
What's wrong, What's wrong
I need to ask somebody
Let's speak for the hood, baby
Homies are out here crying
My granny telling me I need to go to church
The homies in the hood telling me to do dirt
It ain't shit changed, yo
We in the same game it's hard to get a job
When you live with cocaine
My brother is a gangster
My uncle is a banger living in the projects
Looking out for danger
Crookedwith a hanger you can
See it locking up
Yeah, the fierce on my ass they
Don't want to see me up
I hear the streets talking, we all need help
Keep some real niggers with you
Cause it's hard by yourself
I'm speaking for the hood, yeah
I'm straight off the block
Where it's hard to get sleep
You hear them gun shots
In the studio apartment
Your baby's still starving
What the fuck is going on, ask uncle Marvin
The homies in the hood telling me to do dirt
But my granny telling me
You should go to church (church)
We used to steal fifths
Put on our big brother clothes
Slide up to king park and
Try to mack some hoes
Took one to knew us, yeah that was my home
When the sheriff killed my home boy, t-bone
Tyrone hanging with the D boys
Chilling with the crooks
Killing the game with? and Ronnie Brooks
We used to run shit up under that bridge
Smoking coochy and brig, that's how we lived
Me fruity baby pop, rowdy little kids
Things changed nowadays you're some
Rowdy little kids
Up about the park when we heard that lit
(pop pop pop) and the next thing you know
Louis lost his leg now we ducking the police
And dodging the feds
Fuck hustling, I'd rather get a job instead
Fuck struggling, I can make money
Doing these songs
Cause your closest home boy
Would do you wrong