Aminé
Corner Store
This a Cadillac slap and Zach is back
Actually active, no time has passed
Every second reckon that we wreckin' failed, don't ask
And they question what we reppin' like we some new jack
We sons of the slums and the dumb don't pack
Cause we run no straps, guns cause no nap
Cause we all asleep 6, 4 feet deep
You feel that heat?, no Santa Ana winds
Gin's and the juice, G funk made us loose
I just hit 'em with the truth n' not only in the booth
I hit 'em real honest you can call me Boothe
Maybe Abe let me, spit it all through
In the tube, on the web, in the streets, "on a ledge"
Wait, my bad, sorry Rakim
In a tent, in my village, I was bred in "The North"
What I meant; I'mma kill it, then dump it at the shore...
By Pierpont, then im'a go for more
Open up a business, probably a morgue
Cause I tore and I ate, all of these beats
I need produce for songs, the kid just wanna eat
Pleasssse, generic, I just love writing
Written's, soul, require no timing
Time for rhymes with no blindin' and circles with some binding
Climbing, grinding, won't hit my thresh
But I'm content, cause Christ killed my flesh
And I'm deafened by the decibels of all the debt he paid
N' Death talks, evil stalks so we just play
But gauge that, no ears, what ya gonna do?
Follow ya maker, get up from the pew
So proof ain't in the henn but the proof in you
Thought you knew jack man?, you don't Hugh