Thurz - n***as lyrics

[Verse Thurzday] Hate calling my brothers (n***as) But the n***as love it Some of my n***as k** and won't think nothing of it Some (n***as) slang mothers with baby in stomach (n***as) Some good and some ugly Some are house (n***as) And send most smile for money Some will f** their n***as girl colder than nose runny Some (n***as) smoke rocks, some got a wicked jump shot Many run blocks and end up in the pine box Boxed in, [so?] [condition?] of race Thinking they handicap because of the color of they face (n***as) That's worse than clan lynchings Some of my n***as be too high off pride, tripping Thinking they dig [mitch?], thinking [they/ of?] [O.H.?] [And every other n***a side ironed and sway?] [?] ? So how you [?] Unchain a mad beast, got no time to preach But still, this is for my (n***as) Hate calling my brothers Brother n***as love it Some thirty years old and got no goals Other got kids and won't scrap when they hit it And known for a visit with a b**h up in the a clinic They hit the club the same night, looking for new [petty?] [Would of?] walked the same shoes if I gave my girl abortion money I was on my young wild sh**, drinking like I got an extra liver, n***a sh** You know young, hard head dudes don't bend Think they ball players, until the end [Tell them, friend, [[why there's?]] different shoes?] Got different views, and their upbringing tells what they pursue Some got a silver spoon, expected to not fumble With school as the hustle, and a scholarship huddles So when you hear hike, you're running for your freedom Or fighting like gladiators in Roman Colosseum Hate calling my brothers But f** it, when I talk that n***a sh**, yeah some of the hoes love it And Tip said we use it as a term of endearment But it came up out the south chained on that disease ship When it come up out your mouth, how we changing the context Many years constricted living, adopted hood accents Conforming to religion, thinking Jesus eyes' blue We focus on Nikes, and processed hairdos Jealous of the next man sitting on rims, plotting murder Plotting like Kane, robbing n***as for cheeseburgers Confined by what you think, then you'll act how you think And you're only entertainer for the master Made to believe that we're all just (n***a) Stripped from our gold, enslaved as cotton-pickers More than entertainers, dope-dealers and ballplayers f** being a (n***a) I'd rather be a king For my (n***as)