paroles de chanson Intro - E.S.G.
[E.S.G.]
June
3rd,
the
day
I
was
born
Lil'
nappy
head
nigga,
t-shirt
all
torn
Mama
dropped
out
of
school,
in
the
8th
grade
Kids
across
the
street,
they
use
to
sell
lemonade
Shit
I
bought
a
bar
of
soap,
and
a
box
of
razor
blades
I
had
different
thoughts,
I'm
trying
to
get
paid
In
church
every
sunday,
praying
for
some
hope
Asking
God,
that
I
don't
grow
up
broke
Now
I'm
down
on
my
knees,
asking
God
why
Can't
have
no
suede
Pumas,
or
no
fucking
Fila's
Step-daddy
died,
he
had
full
blown
AIDS
He
was
tooting
up,
and
then
the
nigga
started
shooting
up
Uncle
started
recruiting
us,
he
was
hustling
crack
It's
safe
to
say,
I
was
born
in
the
trap
No
longer
going
to
church,
but
I'm
quick
to
pull
my
gun
out
Basketball
MVP,
the
trophy's
at
my
mom
house
Hoop
dreams
faded,
nobody
called
Back
to
the
block,
full
time
hogg
18
got
probation,
for
a
pound
of
weed
Year
later
I'm
connected,
get
fronted
half-a-ki's
Saw
my
first
thirty
G's,
games
getting
deeper
Moved
to
H-Town,
cause
the
bricks
were
cheaper
Somebody
started
snitching,
now
the
word
is
out
And
letter
factors
in
my
sofa
nigga,
birds
in
my
couch
FED's
hit
my
house,
they
ain't
find
shit
G
Still
tried
to
give
me
20,
for
a
damn
conspiracy
Asking
bout
my
niggaz,
ain't
no
snitch
in
I
Told
the
D.A.,
eat
a
dick
and
die
Round
the
same
time,
I
was
fucking
with
Screw
Gave
me
"Swangin'
And
Bangin",
the
first
hit
a
nigga
ever
do
And
thanks
to
him
I
got
love,
so
I
represented
Six
months
later
"Ocean
of
Funk",
hundred
thousand
independent
Probation
violation,
I'm
back
on
lock
Dropped
"Sailin'
Da
South",
just
to
keep
my
name
hot
Video
got
shot,
MLK
Boulevard
Three
months
'fore
that,
caught
a
fucking
murder
charge
Nigga
broke
in
my
crib,
shot
my
partna
in
the
head
So
I
grabbed
the
chopper,
left
the
bitch
nigga
dead
Instead
of
self
defense,
they
tried
to
give
me
murder
one
Three
years
in
the
Penn,
homie
that
wasn't
fun
Touched
down
on
the
streets,
"Return
of
the
Living
Dead"
Another
fifty
thousand
independent,
get
my
bread
Helped
Wreckshop,
make
bout
1.3
"Shinin'
& Grindin",
"Dirty
3rd",
"City
Under
Siege"
Had
Flip
under
my
wing,
Slim
Thug
too
And
both
them
niggaz
switched,
like
some
homosexuals
do
From
"Wanna
be
a
Baller",
to
"Getcha
Hands
Up"
You
wanna
fuck
with
me,
you
gotta
get
your
grands
up
Real
niggaz
stand
up,
fake
niggaz
hit
the
deck
Everyday
Street
Gangsta,
I'm
the
epidemy
of
that
No
holding
me
back,
I'm
part
of
God's
plan
Angel
in
disquise,
I
walk
in
God's
hands
And
like
I
said
befo',
the
devils
wanna
clip
my
wings
Immortal
underdog,
call
me
Constantine
Fuck
the
movie
ring,
it's
real
lifetime
Don't
believe
me,
ask
C-Murder
ask
Shyne
Rappers
like
50,
use
some
real
gangstas
mayn
I
really
had
a
murder
charge,
really
moved
the
caine
Told
to
swang
and
bang,
when
I
was
only
17
I
knew
about
syrup,
pop
trunks
and
screens
Nintendos
in
the
dash,
candy
paint
shining
Boys
already
know,
I'm
way
mo'
than
grinding
So
yeah,
now
you
bitch
niggaz
know
What
E.S.G.
stand
fo',
that's
my
motherfucking
intro
nigga
(*talking*)
Know
I'm
saying,
E.S.G.
A
legend
in
this
shit,
know
I'm
saying
This
album
right
here,
is
dedicated
To
two
special
cats,
my
dog
Nick
Sholtz
And
Matney
on
lock,
let's
get
this
money
What
up
Duke,
smoke
some'ing
Junior
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