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• Artiste: Rezidue
• Titre: Inner City Blues
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Yo it's the inner city blues goin' through my headphones Starin' at space and runnin through the red zone Feel like rhymin', freestylin' Going back in the time when brothaz wasn't wil'n But nowadays it's a brand new tactic Brothas be gettin fly and traveling galactic, uh Better beam down to earth, I'm blowing up with mine first When I was young I used to roll with thugs that sold drugs Exporting high-caliber weapon transporting It was very important to the niggaz on the block that you knew how to get down when it was time to rock Came like we was raised on a farm I mean, niggaz be on they way to school gettin' clicked on In '81 niggaz used to get thrown up in a suplex and robbed for their summer-youth checks, what Other stick-up kids lookin' like 'who's next?' Runnin' out, knockin' niggaz out in two steps or three steps Preceps' ran sprintin' Everyday was a fight like it was San Quentin Niggaz hidden about who been snitchin to the dean At 3 o'clock his wig got split upon the seam I guess a buck-50 just ain't good enough no more Kids be playin' tag with the four-four mag Little bad muthafuckaz need to stay in school Shorty I went the same route so I'm droppin the jewel Mad niggaz gettin' killed over nuttin' Straight squeezin' off on muthafuckaz when you hit they nerve button Yo it's the inner city blues goin' through my headphones Starin' at space an' runnin through the red zone Feel like rhymin', freestylin' Going back in the time when brothaz wasn't wil'n But nowadays it's a brand new tactic Brothas be gettin fly and traveling galactic, uh Better beam down to earth, I'm blowing up with mine first Yo, I heard this chick say she wanted a ruff-neck Niggaz tryin ta be ruff-necks but, yo nigga fuck that Tryin' ta act wild and get a nigga killed Hook him up to the respirator & put him on tilt, word Bad boys move in silence with said bad boys caught two wit a silencer to his heah, uh Some niggaz lucky enough to do it & live through it I had a chance but I chose not to pursue it Most of the ruff niggaz I know be like dead or locked up When they come home by niggaz look blown Swollen up, but the times is changin Ya betta get hip and get a grip mad quick nigga 1 to 3 is no joke, 5 to 10 is even worse 25 years, I'll be cryin' steel tears Trying ta send a bomb-letter to the judge Special delivery nigga, you made a lifetime grudge, uh I make a shank out a spoon or a light fixture Stay alert and try ta keep out of the mixture I never smoke cigarettes but I get 'em so I could sell 'em Here comes statik, somebody better tell 'em (what) My walk here be like 5 or 6 playas with books tied to me & I'm a 7:30 playa This ain't the time to be franchise neckin' The trouble arises quicker than the national deficit Yo it's the inner city blues goin' through my headphones Starin' at space an' runnin through the red zone Feel like rhymin', freestylin' Going back in the time when brothaz wasn't wil'n But nowadays it's a brand new tactic Brothas be gettin fly and traveling galactic, uh Better beam down to earth, I'm blowing up with mine first