Kurupt - Some n***as lyrics

Published

0 318 0

Kurupt - Some n***as lyrics

(Styles P) Spittin the real for all my n***as in prison Whether twenty-five to life or skid biddin Should've restrained, some of us change and some of us don't Most of them k** but some of them won't n***as is big, n***as is small, but all of them brawl It could happen during rec or while you makin a call One T.V. for the Ricans, other one for the Blacks Only cowards get son'ed for the jack Only cowards get talked to greasy and be mumblin back But me, I grab the banger, I don't care about size Hope the whole block watch when I tear out your eyes C/O pullin the pin, turtles is comin But before I hit the box dog, I'm murderin somethin Thick is thick, frail is frail Make sure that my name ring bells wheneva I'm in jail It's the belly of the beast, bottom of hell (Chorus) Some n***as make it home and some n***as stay for life Some n***as grind wit swords and some n***as find in Christ Some n***as live for peace and some n***as live for rec You can even stay on the humble or you can have a fight till the d**h (Styles) Five ????? two-hundred And too blunted for the bullsh** Comin through the yard on some bullsh** Call my girl collect, she ain't accept Left my man wit ten birds, he ain't connect Everybody actin funny, like I ain't comin home My laywer is Jewish, my money is long You know that it's on Two cells down, got cut in the back f**ed in the shower for hustling crack This sh** is for real, you grippin your steel Weighin the odds, you King or you Crip Blood or you God, Muslin or neutral A buck-fifty is real, but a body is crucial Cause jail turn boys to men, some men to b**hes This the place where they end your wishes Ain't no more p**y or money Just some crackers and the bunch of coward n***as that'll look at you funny I should've ??? and book em and took a few dummies Chorus (Styles) Nobody wanna die in jail Wit they blood and they guts all around they cell Only two ways to live, ride or tell I ain't never say a word, Mafia rules You know the P go to commissary, rockin his j**els New Nikes and a walkman, lookin for Mules To bring weed in they a**, chills got me stressed And I'm thinking those days I used to breeze on the Ave Poppin in the Benz, now I'm in the state And I'm locking up at 10, wakin up at 8 Twenty sets of tens then I take it to the weights n***as getting big, if I can't appeal, I'mma bring it to the pigs Grab the ice pick and bring it to they ribs Leave em wit a scare, from they belly to the jibs I know I'm gonna die but I still gonna ride and blame God that I live Chorus 2x