A B C D E F G H I J K L M N O P Q R S T U V W X Y Z #

Classified

"City Life"

[Verse 1: Loe Pesci]
On rooftops and train yards see my squad 'round
When sh*t stinks it's instinct- don't let my guard down
Blackout- they all want power on the block now
But bullet heads taste sick sour like the cops 'round
Y'all deserve a pity-murder for ruining waves like a sh*tty surfer
While I'm painting streets like a city worker
Shining chrome- piece ain't a nine-milli burner-
Beef on walls- no flippin burgers when I grill and serve ya
Ghetto birds got you pitchin nervous-
Speaking code- so don't be greetin' Loes with suspicious wordage
p*ssed you heard us- cause now you serve a fickle purpose
If I'm lava in Guatamala- you a little furnace
So dope drugs pay us to rep- drums pace in my steps
We mean business like frustrated execs
The clubs paying for drinks say you done payin for sex?
Bad bucks don't add up like skunk papers and cess
What we are to our craft is math to an economist-
Adds to what the profit is- bloodbath to pirana fish
My city reeks of drunk-asses and vomitin'
Just sh*tty beats with punk asses predominant
I take it back like at the store tryin' to trade my girl
I got a long 'to-do' list like my name is Earl
I bag your whore- bag the raw- get some paint and curl
Tag your door and write a quote that'll change the world/

[Verse 2: Classified]
Now when the lights go down the night turn dark
People don't sleep fast- livin' like Dale Earnheart
Money makin' suit and ties advance with true lies
While street kids try to get a bite like fruit flies
The city life- every corner has a different story
Every block and every building had their day of glory:
The burn-outs- broken bottles in the littered streets
Older cats reminiscing how it used to be
A small town growing up to be a big city
Sky-scrapers constructed over history
Gotta get money- work the street like young whores
Who got room and board paying off cheap slum lords
Big community- small back yard
The youth are killing me- they all act hard
I talk what I'm seeing- not what it could've been-
Classified; an outsider's view looking in the city life

[Verse 3: Ghettosocks]
I swim through the city with fins and crisp splashes
Where humans get lost under frost and sip rations
My paint ain't faint- these templates will rip canvas
Stained with the fame of the names then kids vanish
Inflict damage- media vans depict bandits
Who risk captivity masked like sick pandas
Cliques clash- play in the streets the script's tragic
Clips split fabric the strip restricts fashions
Imagination caged in a maze with mixed plastics
Leave your flow dead as the veins in crypt caskets
Kids gather in packs to get magic
The wizard walks blizzards and wrath to spit havoc
Thrashing in the wake of mistakes to flip habits
Like sisters on trampolines eclipse passion
Gipped masses sing non-descript anthems
To represent a place where all this sh*t happens
Slip fathoms under the ships with lips gaspin'-
Black strapped hips government equipped hatchets-
Magnums numb and defrag to hit patches-
Body bags sag when they're dragged like ripped mattress
Lacking concern earns burn from stick matches
Stigmata hatches through cracks of whip crashes
Seeds disappear -another mother's gift passes
Leaves here - tears bead in thick lashes

A B C D E F G H I J K L M N O P Q R S T U V W X Y Z #


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