Cool - Dead Homies lyrics

Ha ha Yeah What's happening world This is for all my homeboys who didn't get to see a new year Yeah, yo [Hook] X 2 This for my homeboys dead and gone Off in the bushes, we pour out liquor, and roll up swisher smoke [Big Gipp] The hood has changed since you left, man I see your mom and dad got a new jag Little Jason work at Papa John's, saw your other brother Kelly In the basement at k**er Bee's house Tuesday night fights, ESPN, Sportcenter, big screen You know how these Eastpoint vets do Can you recall riding bicycles in the trails behind Krissy Collins dropping Huffys like BMX's Your first car was a Honda, my first car was a rabbit Cut parties with a tall can or something Off in the 800 Ol' E, man, that old girl She always fell, drunk off the pink champell Yeah, reminiscing going through adolescence with you Hoping that these words get to you in good spirit Your partna Gipp won't forget you, my little brother Went to prison last week, since he been in we barely speak [Hook] X 4 [Khujo] Rest in peace, to all the brothers And sisters who didn't make it to see, a struggle In the flesh, my folk thought I'm in the carcus I don't worship the sun no more, I follow David Carresh So I'm living right, the tears of many with a Sheet pulled over my f**ing head, I'm hanging in there Like a wasp nest, meanwhile n***as is quiting on me Falling victum to stress I'm filling it with your diction homie,but that don't Take away from my spirit and my mind, one time For my homie Barat, and my homie Quentin And my shawty Felicia, and my partna Floppy I'm still living for you, I'm still swinging on a n***a Still pulling on a flicker flicker, as I inhale the smoke With my kinfolk, G-double O-D-I-E M-O-B for L-I-F-E [Hook] X 4 [T-Mo] You want this gold clean and shining Don't need to remind me about the divine, he polishes And demolish his competitors, who was the editor To bad mouth these boys that bred in the South Where chicken's fried on the daily, and rebel flags fly I have no love for confederate sons but guns And no hogs' good for me, people like my type To spark the spiritual fight with the devil off tonight When he's white, at anytime, and any rhyme With substance is looked at as racist When good ol' boys is still doing hangings And Mississippi having no pity on my color skin Not having a choice from the begin, little brothers Like me to pose a physical threat, but check Let me grab a hold of my black steel And I'll show all y'all who's real c'mon [Hook] X 4