Rashad Coes - Every Single Weekend lyrics

(Beeper/Pager) *beeps/rings* "Ey man that's this n***a KAM paging me" "No sh** lets call that n***a and see what he doing" "Hand me the phone" "Got this old a** grandma on the phone and sh**" "Ah man come on" "Somebody be breakin in your house and break their f**in neck every time you call the paramedics and polices" "sh**" "Ey turn the music down I can't really hear" "Ey Hello Wha**up?" "Hello Wha**up n***a? Wha**up for the weekend n***a?" [Kam] The weekend?! That sh** ain't nothin but another two days That n***as act crazy on Then it's gone, and everybody feel fu*kED UP THE ASS Cause they spent they last On sh** that they wouldn't get, no other days of the week "Why is that?" Because they too damn cheap Been keepin the act up, for forty-eight hours They weekend warriors, but weekday cowards (punk) All of a sudden, everybody got so much heart You know some sh** gots to start But believe you me, between now and then A gang of motherf**ers lives gon' end But yo, if they lucky they will know how to get away Then they'll live to punk out another day But am I wrong when I say that? "Hell nah, cause the homie don't play that" [Hook] And y'all know, it's happenin "every single weekend" "sh** happens" "every single weekend" "sh** happens" "every single weekend" "sh** happens ev-ver-ry-day" [Kam] It's the same routine, every seven day period The opposite s**, got us all doin weird sh** It's all about gettin credit, for bein that Hell of a n***a, and so you slang for the putang Figure it out, cause see it's just for the skeezin Ain't no other reason And a season don't go by that n***as don't show off And break some laws so they can take some drawers home Or straight perpetrate, all cause they learned wrong Wearin beepers, that ain't even turned on A fake Rolex, tryin to look like a star A phony phone antenna on a rent-a-car Wait, it don't stop with the men though I know the same amount of hoes tradin a** for the indo Tryin your best, but you can not fool me Into thinkin that you rich, with no costume j**elry on [Hook] [Kam] Ten and two, fingertips on the steering wheel Sittin on the phonebook, smellin like Clear-a-sil A young boy's weekend on the Eastside Caught the bus and came back with a G-ride The little homies put the tank on E So it's on one of y'all to rush another G And now everybody knowin how he felt Damn, here come one time, put on y'all seatbelt Heart beatin so hard they shakin If one-time pull us over n***a I'm breakin Cause they comin up fast in the rearview So don't nobody lookin till the coast is clear too They all on the a** like a tiger stalkin Y'all put on the grin, and pretend we all talkin And, if he don't sweat the rest is simple Everybody hit his a** up out the window [Hook] [Kam] Well this was strictly for the underground parties Who can relate, straight to all these events The ones happenin, "every single weekend" We all look alike, ain't nobody unique When every little girl is a prostitute And every n***a outside police gots to shoot Because here, if a n***a ain't rappin Then he must be affilaited, slangin or kidnappin But he trapped in a stereotype of bullsh** A full fifth, couldn't even save him from And then you gave him a rope to hang with Divide and conquer him with all this gang sh** So for the streets I'mma close like this: f** y'all, all that can kiss my Skinny starvin po' short low-cla** Stressed out fraggedy ghetto a** [Hook]