Backstreets Songtext
von 20‐2‐Life
Backstreets Songtext
What up, though?
The Big Time Motherload just landed
And we ain′t from this fucking planet
20 2 Life in the motherfucking house, Killa Hoe and that nigga, Black
Handle your business, fools
Robbed of life in South Park but it still pays me
Dope to bucks 'cause my daddy never gave a fuck
To see a nigga struggling down on his knees
All I had to look up to was the Backstreet OGs
So I battered myself and raised myself to be A
Holder, a folder of money, making ghetto soldiers
And I had to make sure that I was wrapped tight
′Cause no money, no game don't even sound right
So I'm out to beat the system just to make a lick
Too much cost, so I′m bumping niggas off and shit
Looking out for number one
A victim of the ghetto, so I′m packing a fucking gun
Holding up liquor stores and robbing them white folks
Smoking Swisher Sweets and wearing them black loafs
Not giving a damn about the next nigga's shit
Jack move after jack move, it sorta becomes a habit
I took many lives, looked in many eyes before I bust them
But they dead and gone so now I can′t discuss them
The clientele and juice is mine so I hold up The title '
Cause it′s vital to them backstreets I sowed up
Hey, yo, I'm off of parole, now I gotta pimp a hustle
A nigga used to flip ′em, now I gotta work my muscle
Yeah, straight chin checking, rocking your grill
Another ten seconds shocking, hoe, kill
'Cause these are the ways of a jacking
Them Backstreet OGs got to keep that paper stacking
Killa Hoe and Black be on a crack freak jack spree
Them backstreets make a motherfucker wanna pack, G
Coming up in the backstreets, the next G was straight me
The shit that I fuck with, niggas couldn't fuck with
OGs stay low-dup, always packing they fucking heat
They bring they shit to war in them South Park backstreets
So, nigga, beat your feet for the hot spot
The Glock you got sudden death, so it′s shot-for-shot
A vision of street life is all you can think about
From cut to cut, taking nuts we can chew ′em out
Bucking 'em down, leaving no motherfucking evidence
So the laws can′t arrest me for this crazy shit
Young-ass nigga meeting ends by a fucking thread
Aggravated, related murder, two shots to the fucking head
A gangster, gangster, soldier with the spiked wing
You go toe-to-toe like a motherfucking Viking
My nuts to the ground, now my heart made of concrete
Roll to no return down a dead-end street
Never put my hustle or my Glock down
Busting motherfuckers in the game until they put me on lockdown
But for now, the backstreet belong to Mr
Money Maker 'Til another G can take me to the undertaker
A nigga′s out on parole but I gotta pimp a hustle
A nigga used to flip 'em, now I gotta work my muscle
Shit, straight chin checking, rocking your grill
Another ten seconds shocking, hoe, kill
′Cause these are the ways of a jacking
Them Backstreet OGs got to keep that paper stacking
Killa Hoe and Black be on a crack freak jack spree
Them backstreets make a motherfucker wanna pack, G
As the days go by, my life has changed
'Cause living your life out in these streets ain't no fucking game
A victim of the backstreets, casualty of reality
Laws that gaffle me, these niggas wanna battle me
Ever met a backstreet nigga with the backstreet nuts
Pulling them backstreet triggers on them backstreet cuts?
′Cause I made way for myself, I had to bogart
Pull hoe cards, I couldn′t be faded 'cause I was raised hard
Never had this or that, all I really had was pity
Gleaming, I′m dreaming the thought, dying in my fucking city
So if you're hard, hit the trials like, "Root it out."
Get the nuts to be a man, nigga, straight shoot it out
Prostitutes serving niggas on every block
Static to the bushes, pimps pulling triggers on the Glocks
′Cause I was born and raised and my soul will never die or rot
My name will still remain by all the niggas that I shot
But when it's my time to die, death, I′ll never cheat
But my mama just lost her little boy to the backstreets
O- o- off of parole, then I gotta pimp a hustle
A nigga used to flip 'em, now I gotta work my muscle, punk
Straight chin checking, rocking your grill
Another ten seconds shocking, hoe, kill
'Cause these are the ways of a jacking
Them Backstreet OGs got to keep that paper stacking
Killa Hoe and Black be on a crack freak jack spree
Them backstreets make a motherfucker wanna pack, G
Yeah, check this out
This is Point Blank coming straight out of South motherfucking Park
Down with 20 to Life, that′s Black and Killa Hoe, bitch
Y′all can't fuck with this Big Time style ′cause we in here
Yeah
I'ma send this out to my brother, 38, that nigga on lock
The Big Time Motherload just landed
And we ain′t from this fucking planet
20 2 Life in the motherfucking house, Killa Hoe and that nigga, Black
Handle your business, fools
Robbed of life in South Park but it still pays me
Dope to bucks 'cause my daddy never gave a fuck
To see a nigga struggling down on his knees
All I had to look up to was the Backstreet OGs
So I battered myself and raised myself to be A
Holder, a folder of money, making ghetto soldiers
And I had to make sure that I was wrapped tight
′Cause no money, no game don't even sound right
So I'm out to beat the system just to make a lick
Too much cost, so I′m bumping niggas off and shit
Looking out for number one
A victim of the ghetto, so I′m packing a fucking gun
Holding up liquor stores and robbing them white folks
Smoking Swisher Sweets and wearing them black loafs
Not giving a damn about the next nigga's shit
Jack move after jack move, it sorta becomes a habit
I took many lives, looked in many eyes before I bust them
But they dead and gone so now I can′t discuss them
The clientele and juice is mine so I hold up The title '
Cause it′s vital to them backstreets I sowed up
Hey, yo, I'm off of parole, now I gotta pimp a hustle
A nigga used to flip ′em, now I gotta work my muscle
Yeah, straight chin checking, rocking your grill
Another ten seconds shocking, hoe, kill
'Cause these are the ways of a jacking
Them Backstreet OGs got to keep that paper stacking
Killa Hoe and Black be on a crack freak jack spree
Them backstreets make a motherfucker wanna pack, G
Coming up in the backstreets, the next G was straight me
The shit that I fuck with, niggas couldn't fuck with
OGs stay low-dup, always packing they fucking heat
They bring they shit to war in them South Park backstreets
So, nigga, beat your feet for the hot spot
The Glock you got sudden death, so it′s shot-for-shot
A vision of street life is all you can think about
From cut to cut, taking nuts we can chew ′em out
Bucking 'em down, leaving no motherfucking evidence
So the laws can′t arrest me for this crazy shit
Young-ass nigga meeting ends by a fucking thread
Aggravated, related murder, two shots to the fucking head
A gangster, gangster, soldier with the spiked wing
You go toe-to-toe like a motherfucking Viking
My nuts to the ground, now my heart made of concrete
Roll to no return down a dead-end street
Never put my hustle or my Glock down
Busting motherfuckers in the game until they put me on lockdown
But for now, the backstreet belong to Mr
Money Maker 'Til another G can take me to the undertaker
A nigga′s out on parole but I gotta pimp a hustle
A nigga used to flip 'em, now I gotta work my muscle
Shit, straight chin checking, rocking your grill
Another ten seconds shocking, hoe, kill
′Cause these are the ways of a jacking
Them Backstreet OGs got to keep that paper stacking
Killa Hoe and Black be on a crack freak jack spree
Them backstreets make a motherfucker wanna pack, G
As the days go by, my life has changed
'Cause living your life out in these streets ain't no fucking game
A victim of the backstreets, casualty of reality
Laws that gaffle me, these niggas wanna battle me
Ever met a backstreet nigga with the backstreet nuts
Pulling them backstreet triggers on them backstreet cuts?
′Cause I made way for myself, I had to bogart
Pull hoe cards, I couldn′t be faded 'cause I was raised hard
Never had this or that, all I really had was pity
Gleaming, I′m dreaming the thought, dying in my fucking city
So if you're hard, hit the trials like, "Root it out."
Get the nuts to be a man, nigga, straight shoot it out
Prostitutes serving niggas on every block
Static to the bushes, pimps pulling triggers on the Glocks
′Cause I was born and raised and my soul will never die or rot
My name will still remain by all the niggas that I shot
But when it's my time to die, death, I′ll never cheat
But my mama just lost her little boy to the backstreets
O- o- off of parole, then I gotta pimp a hustle
A nigga used to flip 'em, now I gotta work my muscle, punk
Straight chin checking, rocking your grill
Another ten seconds shocking, hoe, kill
'Cause these are the ways of a jacking
Them Backstreet OGs got to keep that paper stacking
Killa Hoe and Black be on a crack freak jack spree
Them backstreets make a motherfucker wanna pack, G
Yeah, check this out
This is Point Blank coming straight out of South motherfucking Park
Down with 20 to Life, that′s Black and Killa Hoe, bitch
Y′all can't fuck with this Big Time style ′cause we in here
Yeah
I'ma send this out to my brother, 38, that nigga on lock
Writer(s): Eddie Hardin, Ray Fenwick Lyrics powered by www.musixmatch.com
