Songtexte WORRYIN' BOUT A CLASSIC - Nick Grant

Yeah, it ain't no windows in my projects
Just dreaded shooters hittin' scores like they Wyclef
Poor communication was a cancer to my progress
We only felt we measured up when mixin' out the Pyrex
My ego misunderstood, so niggas overlook me
It's funny how the underbelly showed you who was pussy
Some find they gift behind prison walls, think what you could be
Holdin' that tre piece out the car like I'm Cuba Gooding

Behind the eight ball
My granny's house peace, her soul deep as the voice of Nate Dogg
She asked was I just hangin' with killers to resonate more
I told her, no, it's love, but I feel I'm at risk like Ray Charles
Ayy, dog
I rocked my brother's hand-me-downs
Now I help him up ladders (ooh, ooh, oh)
Poor but royal, puttin' foil on TV antennas
Before my karma and my Black trauma was manufactured (ooh, ooh, oh)

They said my mama was freebasin', she's hittin' the batter
I had to learn the hard way
This street shit ain't for beginners (ooh, ooh, oh)
When shooters hit like Kobe, they gon' staple your center
Food stamps was dollar bills, we had to fend for our own (ooh, ooh, oh)
As these crackers judge us, my skin color would set the tone, yeah

It's like these niggas play a game called "Who gon' die the fastest?"
My nigga keep a nine, he rock it like it's latest fashion
And they don't give no fuck, these niggas even rob the pastor
I'm tryn'a get my people right, you worryin' 'bout a classic
Ooh, ooh, ooh, oh, worried for you
Ooh, worried, worried for you
Ooh, ooh, ooh, worried for you, yeah

Yeah, I watched my cousin die at school like, "This shit for real?"
Was close to him, so it left me with a distant chill
Remember watchin' sister act to get me out my feels
Twenty years later, I'm on tour with Lauryn Hill
The silver lining (ooh, ooh, ooh, oh)
You turn your back, and you don't scrap, then you's a ho for real
I gotta get up outta here, this shit too slow for real (ooh, yeah)
My granny prayin', so I walk 'round with Jehovah's shield

From where the drive-bys make you relearn your motor skills
Parents fightin'
Wakin' me up out my sleep, these police sirens (ooh, ooh, oh)
Still haunted by the PTSD
Was the underdog, my auntie prayed mama aborted me (ooh, ooh, oh)
We dyin' every day, the lesson in that, don't trust the weak
They never taught us nothin'
But how to cut class and cut a key (ooh, ooh, ooh, yeah)

Wish I had a dollar for every rat that I knew would squeak
Left him on his chest
Gave new meaning to hugging the street (ooh, ooh, oh)
Caught a stray in broad day 'cause all these dogs off the leash
Preach

It's like these niggas play a game called "who gon' die the fastest?"
My nigga keep a nine, he rock it like it's latest fashion
And they don't give no fuck, these niggas even rob the pastor
I'm tryn'a get my people right, you worryin' 'bout a classic
Ooh, ooh, ooh, oh, worried for you
Worried, worried for you
Worried, yeah, worried for you, yeah

Don't you ever lose control (mhmm)
Guard your mind, don't lose your soul

Yeah, I know a kid with no father
His father was a victim of a manslaughter (don't you ever lose control)
His mama keep bringin' niggas around
He starts to learn from these niggas
He looks at them like a father (guard your mind, don't lose your soul)
Sooner or later, they're gone
Young man, you gotta stay guarded, the world is heartless
These are more than just rap lines

Life is a broken clock, I can't get back time
My niggas sellin' wet, yet never been baptized
No loyalty, they switchin' sides like it's half time
The reaper's outside, so stay in this bitch
They check the toe-tag, rather die than to be labeled a bitch
Ain't got no white neighbors, still, I'm on the waviest shit
Ridin' 'round with a banger like a radio hit
Wait for the click

Don't you ever lose control
Sunday Dinner