lirik lagu buccet loc – casket drops
[verse 1: buccet loc]
living up them streets of death
by myself dead, homies every [?]
ain’t giving a n-gga no help
in the octagon mad cause they ain’t no more sp-ce
cause there’s 30 mo’ murder victims
born everyday, in every state
and n-ggas be k!lling over colors, smoking other brothers
when death ain’t giving a sh-t about your family or your mother
ain’t no mistaken, i was shaken
as i sat back, contemplating
a little homie, tune
bleeding death at the gas station
a big homie set trippin’
ready to find the punk fool, when fools going out solo
we squabbling at the funeral, the devil got my brothers
k!lling the bloods without breaking a sweat
now they chugging forties and sh-t
won’t even let my homie rest
and where was my brother when this bullsh-t came about
doing 25 to life
that’s something he wasn’t thinking about
so every time you pull your nine and buck holmes
the other man k!lling two birds with one stone
one black in a grave, the other black in a jail cell
dead, bunked out and their moms in a living h-ll
so, tell me where is the strip in my family?
gangs and slanging got blacks living in tragedy
my family still remaining in shock
cause a n-gga be banging with glocks
and it really don’t stop until that casket drop
[hook (x2)]
living in a city where them k!llers are grown
i struggle to get out but i still call it home
and you don’t wanna ride on them wicked -ss streets
young baby gangstas walkin’ around, packing heat
[verse 2: buccet loc]
now how can i tell my partner’s moms her son just got smoked?
2 slugs in the chest laying fat between some bl–dy coats
the n-ggas that did it, ain’t even tryna hide
so i let my girl drive
cause i’m solo when i do this ride
and payback with [?] lettin’ out steam
blasting everything in blue and black, yellow and green
i’m in hood everyday, mane
trying to preach this peace
and guns and k!llin’ for fun, mane
just won’t seem to cease
and life in war, we ’bout to fight, mane
it ain’t no joke
unless we get our life together, everybody getting smoked
regardless of what you think, ain’t n0body to explicit to die
so watch your back for the jack in this relentless ride
cause we’ve been programmed to hate anything black
dead homies get respected from here to either side of texas
i’m pouring out forties
blazing sacks, burning incense
more deadly experiments than tuskegee experiments
hearing this, cesspool of another righteous nation
i learned by gettin’ burned, not to have no patience
i got a letter from little brother, solo, today
six months left on the [?]
that’s when this n-gga walked up
talking about where the bud?
ain’t no bud, blood
that’s when that n-gga started pumping them slugs
i should’ve been more careful
n-ggas get k!lled out here everyday
too bad, i never listened to what my big sister to say
am i supposed to be homie [?]
as i bleeded, he proceeded to lock me out the do’
and 8 shots is what i got from the drama
having of visions of living with my sister and my mama
blood running out my mouth, out my chest and my nose
i heard my sister’s voice
that n-gga [?]
and i suppose i closed the doors on life and locked it
dead on the porch, my brother’s note in my pocket
never got to see him raise about the pencil
never again will i get a chance to hug my little negro
you k!lled every brother that you see with your glock
but if the cops flock and tell you to stop
you quickly let your strap drop
love to the dead homies that went down in history
too bad they had to die for what’s to make this doc-mentary
there’s always gonna be gangs and always be neighborhoods
as long you got [?] practicing [?]
k!lling p-ck-r woods
my black family still remains in shock
cause we bangs with glocks
but it really don’t stop until that casket drop!
[outro]
and that’s life
on the under
for the crips & the bloods
that’s what’s up
[hook]
living in a city where them k!llers are grown
i struggle to get out but i still call it home
and you don’t wanna ride on them wicked -ss streets
young baby gangstas walking around, packing heat
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