Lyrics Twenty-Eight - SPM

You lookin' up to Michaels, I'm looking up to psychos
Men who died young make up most of my idols
Head harder than a hammer, don't give a damn-a
Mind goes blank, then it clicks like a camera
Blame it on the fry
And I ain't finna fake it
Last night I got wet and ran around my hood naked
Thinking boys tryna kill me
Real niggas feel me
Back to backs sticks had me fried out for real G
SP, browner than a dirty penny
Got your whole click screamin', "Who murdered Kenny?"
Purple bong hitter the stuff you on, shit but pull your heat
And I bet you, I'll respond quicker
The lost liquor, like Gilli and his boy Skipper
Pop the top, get to pourin' out some malt liquor
For my homies that I miss like a 3-Pointer
And won't rest till I get your enemies for you
I don't want to die today, but I've got twenty-eight in my microwave
Everybody in the hood really like my yay'
Clear and uncut, got no time to play
Listen yo
I don't want to die today, but I've got twenty-eight in my microwave
Everybody in the hood really like my yay'
Clear and uncut, got no time to play
Listen yo
Four pebbles in the Matchbox,
How many crack rocks will it take just to buy mom a house and socks?
No more canned pork and beans, never had normal dreams
All I ever wanted was to move up to quarter keys
Cause on the corner, G's getting killed for their cheese
3:30, selling dope in the morning breeze
We was born to be lost and disorderly
Boys getting out the game means there's just more for me
Underneath stormy skies, packing .45s
Ever heard a man's last words right before he dies?
It'll fuck with your head, play tricks on your mind
Hillwood is my hood, homie, I ain't hard to find
I be there all the time, with the 40 bottle,
Trying hard to hit little Joe, now it's gobble gobble time
Broke the house with my friends, I be hitting many licks
They be like, "Los, give it back, you already rich!"
I don't want to die today, but I've got twenty-eight in my microwave
Everybody in the hood really like my yay'
Clear and uncut, got no time to play
Listen yo
I don't want to die today, but I've got twenty-eight in my microwave
Everybody in the hood really like my yay'
Clear and uncut, got no time to play
Listen yo
Have a heart for your piper, and salt for your sinus
Where jackers get wrapped in blankets like Linus
Into something, I don't ask questions I just be dumping
Put a hole in your dome like a Halloween pumpkin
One static, I will haunt you like a ghost in the attic
Cuss you out like my grandpa used to do,
"Hot damn it, pinche niño, you no hear me? Traegame me cerveza"
In my room, banged and screwed, twenty-five on my dresser
Feel blessed, baby sitting with a black four-fifth
And trying to roll a little something that'll give me a lift
Or hit a bong for stress because it's heavy on me
And this life ain't easy, but who said it would be?
I accomplish at will, but still I feel that I'm cursed
I told them, "We can have peace or let the bullets disperse"
In the game where the referees don't show up
It ain't no rules in my hood, the best man blew up
I don't want to die today, but I've got twenty-eight in my microwave
Everybody in the hood really like my yay'
Clear and uncut, got no time to play
Listen yo
I don't want to die today, but I've got twenty-eight in my microwave
Everybody in the hood really like my yay'
Clear and uncut, got no time to play
Listen yo