Buckwild - Oh Yeah (Our Babies) lyrics

[LeAlan Jones] "I remember one time I was over at my Auntie house Spending the night. And we playin' Super Nintendo I hear this lady: 'Yo, I heard you been looking for me, n***a' Then she just -- boom-boom-boom-boom-boom! She let off about eight shots. Then I heard the other gun fire off And we were just still there playing there, like nothin' happened And then Vietnam, them people came back crazy. I (live) in Vietnam So what you think I'mma be if I live in it and they just went and visited?" [Saigon] s**ers could not survive what I philosophize When somebody dies, you see why I'm not surprised? Had a plot to rise since I looked in the doctor's eyes Since I started drinkin milk that was h*mogenized I would strive with or without a pops to provide Moms still cries cause she fell for a crock of lies I try to teach her to fight her fears I try to teach her to wipe her tears Don't worry, sh** gon' be aight this year I'm at the top of my game, just watch for my name Better off poppin my brain than poppin my chain (dang!) I claim king without droppin a thing When they ask if I'm the best, I reminisce of the bing and think... [LeAlan Jones] When I was ten, I seen my first automatic weapon A Glock Nine -- two clips [Lloyd Newman] I seen all kinds of guns -- .44, .22, (Techs!) Techs. I saw rifles [Jones:] Mac 10, Mac 11 [Newman:] Living around here. You hear shooting all the time [Saigon] Damn.. The drama's pitiful, lil' n***as is homicid-ical Couple meals ago, shorty was eatin through his umbilical Now he feel he unk**able, sh** is all amazing The wrong altercation'll leave his a** with a long abrasion I try to make my life the focal through rhymes These n***as do vocal booth crimes, I shot n***as multiple times You sold a few dimes, but when you rapping, you the crack king I sold it to whites when you thought it was just a black thing I'm filled with this realness, rappers happen to lack it I'm flabbergasted you got a platinum plaque for that wack sh** All the real gangstas, they on their way to bein dead or in jail They don't make records to sell [Lloyd Newman] I asked my father, Chill, what his best memories of my mother are ['Chill'] Me and her have fun, putting our feet in the water together We were sober then... but once we started gettin high.. Them memories gone... They gone [Newman:] Why are you drinking? [Chill:] I don't understand why I'm drinking [Newman:] Do you think you're gonna stop? [Chill:] Yeah, I'm going to rehab, and take care of myself [Newman:] What do you drink? [Chill:] I drink about two or three pints of wine a day But it ain't helping me, ain't doin nothin' but k**ing me Don't people understand it's destroying you? [Newman:] If it's destroying you, why do you still drink? Do you think you've been a good father? [Chill:] Yes, I have, to the best capability I could [Newman:] I have no further questions [Saigon] The drama's pitiful, lil' n***as is homicid-ical Couple meals ago, shorty was eatin through his umbilical Now he feels he unk**able, sh** is all amazing The wrong altercation'll leave his a** with a long abrasion I try to make my life the focal through rhymes These n***as do vocal booth crimes, I shot n***as multiple times You sold a few dimes, but when you rapping, you the crack king I sold it to whites when you thought it was just a black thing I'm filled with this realness, rappers happen to lack it I'm flabbergasted you got a platinum plaque for that wack sh** All the real gangstas, they on their way to bein dead or in jail They don't make records to sell They don't make records to sell They don't make records to sell They don't make records to sell They don't make records to sell They don't make records to sell [Saigon] Uhhm, mmmm! What time is it, man? Man, it's about 7 o'clock, hmmm! Gone back to sleep, man