paroles de chanson 6 in Tha Morning - 2020 (Unreleased Demo) - Body Count

6 in tha morning, police at my door
Fresh Adidas squeak across the bathroom floor
Out my back window I made my escape
Didn′t even get a chance to grab my old school tape
Mad with no music, but happy 'cause free
And the streets to a player is the place to be
Got a knot in my pocket, weighing at least a grand
Gold on my neck, my pistols close at hand
I′m a self-made monster of the city streets
Remotely controlled by hard hip-hop beats
But just living in the city is a serious task
Didn't know what the pigs wanted, didn't have time to ask
Word!
Seen my homeboys cooling way, way out
Told ′em ′bout my morning cold bugged 'em out
Shot a little dice till my knees got sore
Kicked around some stories ′bout the night before
Posse to the corner where the fly girls chill
Threw action at some freaks until one bitch got ill
She started acting stupid, simply would not quit
Called us all punk pussies, said we all weren't shit
As we walked over to her, hoe continued to speak
So we beat the bitch down in the goddamn street
Just living in the city is a serious task
Bitch didn′t know what hit her, didn't have time to ask
Word!
Continued clocking freaks with immense posterior
Rolling in a Blazer with a Louis interior
Solid gold, the ride was raw
Bust a left turn was on Crenshaw
Sean E Sean was the driver, known to give freaks hell
Had a beeper goin′ off like a high school bell
Looked in the mirror, what did we see?
Fuckin' blue lights: L.A.P.D.
Pigs searched our car, their day was made
Found an Uzi, .44 and a hand grenade
Threw us in the county high power block
No freaks to see, no beats to rock
Didn't want trouble but the shit must fly
Squabbled this sucker shanked ′em in the eye
Just living in the county is a serious task
Nigga didn′t know what hit him, didn't have time to ask
Word!
Back on the streets after five and a deuce
Seven years later but still had the juice
My homeboy Ken Gee put me up the track
Told me E′s rolling Villain, BJ's got the sack
Bruce is a giant, Nat C′s clocking dough
Be bop's a pimp, my old freaks a ho
The batter rams rolling, rocks are the thing
Life has no meaning and money is king
Then he looked at me slowly and Hen had to grin
He said, "Man you out early, we thought you got ten"
Opened his safe, kicked me down with cold cash
Knew I would get busy, he didn′t waste time to ask
I bought a Benz with the money, the rest went to clothes
Went to the Strip, started pimping the hoes
My hair had grew long on my seven year stay
When I got it done on my shoulders it lay
Far from the joint but fly to my heart
I didn't want trouble but the shit had to start
Out with my crew, some punks got loud
Shotgun blasts echoed through the crowd
Six punks hit, two punks died
All causalities was applied to their side
Human lives has to pass just for talking much trash
We didn't know who they were, no one had the time to ask
Word!