lirik lagu jay jones - trauma
[verse 1: jay jones]
sh-t, i never wanted hand-outs
i said i’ma take the man route
went from staying in gram’s house
got bread to get the fam out
i tried to get away but the streets got me
i’m in the trenches, i could be on the beach probably
but lord knows
ready for smoke, go grab the black bag, ain’t doin’ that bad
they say i never seen a rap check, f-ck history
i never failed a math test
bullets can’t even hit a g, i guess you say i’m that blessed
section 8, like the projects
soak in it, let it digest
started off with weed and i graduated pyrex
roll it up in a leaf, that’s my relief, along with hi-tec
got n-gg-s on the street, i’m wondering how they ain’t die yet
sh-t, cause sh-t ain’t the same, n-gg-
so watch where you hang, n-gg-
don’t get your -ss in trouble
you thought life was a game, n-gg-?
i did this off the muscle
me and you not the same, n-gg-
same hittas, turn your fitted cap to a drop-top, brain missing
south beach, i got a cuban b-tch from jermaine, n-gg-
plug daughter, i might just flood the streets with the ‘caine, n-gg-
times hard, but you know sun gon’ shine after rain, n-gg-
never [?] eventually they gon’ change, n-gg-
bang, don’t like to talk about it
i get to thinking they won’t put sh-t in a coffin ’bout it
go vietnam, invest in bombs and start war about it
murder your moms, ignore the lines cause we gon’ cross them out quick
sh-t, you live by the gun, you die by the gun
i get so high, i just said hi to the sun
i told my girl we need to have a lil’ son
ain’t giving up until the battle is done
don’t give a f-ck because i feel like i won
[verse 2: curren$y]
city small, so the wrist big
i went through a sh-t storm, but i’m still here
i just slid through the door before that b-tch closed
and then attached a c4, blew it off the hinge
b-tch, let my homies in
dig this, n-gg-s ain’t slick, i’m on it
we talking ’bout how to fix you this morning
that cake baked, n-gg- just wait
i’m on skates, dayton’s on my chevrolet
new impalas every dates
n-gg-s dying everyday
this new orleans, what’s new?
be cool, ‘fore the next robbery right here be about you
they shook
rap cappers, no hooks, behind back p-sses
alley-oops, no looks
we all on the scoreboard, we all-stars, like chuck taylor’s
racing lamborghini’s with soccer players
off season in brazil, cheefin’
eastside to your side, it ain’t easy
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