lirik lagu delinquent habits - sick habits
oh yeah know who’s checkin’ in right now
i’m ives irie, “el capitan”
checkin’ in for delinquent habits
we got sick jacken, from the psycho realm
you know… sick side!
ives irie:
everyday i wake up, wipe my green eye
and until i feed my sons, keep the music alive
got the nights oversea, intend to watch em but ives
amidst these desert streets walls that only they only want me to die
still i find, that in this grind
good and bad all intertwine in mind just like mine
tend to cast a little shadow over all that i find
making harder every battle, moving nickels and dimes
move em in corner to corner, so i roam in the center
chase my herb and leap to get out of my car when i enter
see my ride in ghetto chronic puts the life a sinner
with this mash and take advantage of a lonely beginner
cause i find, that in this world
situations all having to make ya head curl
eyes twirling, you spinning until your hurling
i keep a shake clean hell off of a girlfriend
though in time, most will hit you like a whirlwind
just to back my game up, pay me or my girl win
its some california love, and i ain’t no hollywood
i really smoke bud, i roll, bang beats
hang out where gangs meet
real sly i chief, its money in these streets
sick jacken:
im a former street pharmacist, new shoes and garments when
9 to 5 i sell dope, i hustle to the plot again
gotta feed my daughter man, times getting hard again
stay transparent, cause these k!llers out here slaughter men
my team move the product and, re-up cop again
i move me some weight then i be back up top again
this illegitimate money, thats when the cops come in
they say im a lose, but my heart says i gotta win
based on whats my sk!ll, i changed a dope deal
to 16 bars of real talk and its so ill-matic still
i feel addict sick habits
its automatic with the ss cause its my zeal
the hustle stays the same
i stay on the corner until its gone and not a nickel remains
the money exchange, expands a world wide range
i`ll be on the grind, pumping this base do your thang homey!
i move rhymes like, nko to the drug culture
move mad words like suga free slangs chocha
get fiends hooked to the shit that i sold ya
get a gas mask dawg, youre now a sick side solider!
hold ya streets down like, drunken style mic
veterans in town fights, depicted on my sound vice
keep that underground right
no doubt i be bringing the psycho shit
now tell me what that sounds like
ives:
i maintain through the struggle and pain
ink-scarred flesh and my brain is all stained
the names ain’t changed, story is explained
is the rebirth of the sick side
clack clack in vain
been known to slang
a little of everything
a little “get back” acido, mota and cocaine
ghetto mathematics, cheese eggs and quarter pounds
street doctors, daily we gotta make bread
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