K-Cut - Just a Friendly Game of Baseball lyrics

Verse One: [Blam] Aww sh**, another young brother hit I better go over my man's crib and get the pump Cause to the cops, shootin brothers is like playin baseball And they're never in a slump I guess when they shoot up a crew, it's a grand slam And when it's one, it's a home run But I'mma be ready with a wild pitch My finger got a bad twitch, plus I'm on the switch -- -- side, and step up to the batter's box f** red and white, I got on Black Sox But let him shoot a person from the White Sox What's the call? Foul ball! Babe Ruth woulda made a good cop, but he didn't Instead he was a bigot, dig it My life is valuable and I protect it like a gem Instead of cops shootin' me I'm goin out shootin' them And let em cough up blood like phlegm It's grim [blam blam] but dead is my antonym And legally they can't take a fall Yo check it out it's just a friendly game of baseball Verse Two: R.B.I. -- real bad injury But don't get happy you're in jail for a century Just as bad as bein shot in the groin To see who'll shoot ya, they'll flip a coin And watch him run for the stretch But you don't know the man is at home waitin to make the catch So the outfielder guns you down You're out, off to the dugout, underground I know a cop that's savage, his pockets stay green like cabbage Cause he has a good batting average No questions, just pulls out the flamer [Blam] And his excuses get lamer Once a brother tried to take a leave But they shot him in his face sayin he was tryin to steal a base And people watch the news for coverage on the game Hmm, and got the nerve to complain They need to get themselves a front row seat Or sink a baseline for a beat Cause television just ain't designed for precision y'all It's just a friendly game of baseball Verse Three: A kid caught on, but I don't know where the brother went The umpires are the government I guess they took him out the game, and replace him With a pinch-hitter, in the scam he was a quitter So the cops usually torment, I mean tournament Win em I was sayin You can't let the umpires, hear ya speak and battle Like the other kid you won't be playin Cause they'll beat you til your a** drop A walking gun with a shell in his hand is their mascot And when you run around let it be known to step lightly The bases are loaded My man got out from three strikes In the skull but the knife he was carrying was dull Instead of innings, we have endings What a fine way to win things And hot-dog vendors have fun Sellin you the cat rat and dog on a bun And when you ask what is all of this called? It's just a friendly game of baseball