celly cel – can’t tell me shit lyrics
yeah, you got celly cel back in this m-th-f-cka
once again, you know ’bout to drop this soul playa sh-t on y’all
you know, nothin’ but that realness, can ya feel this though?
yeah, gonna ride wit’ ya n-gg- ‘cuz it’s goin’ down
they say break yo’self or make yo’self
so i said f-ck it, bought a glock so i could take myself
through all this soft sh-t, a n-gg- face as a youngsta
loc’ed -ss n-gg-s made that hillside a monster
o.g.’s hoopin’ at the school house and shootin’ dice
in and out the pen, real n-gg-s find nothin’ nice
made this hog hit the brew, made me hit the weed
eatin’ at the ho house, moms know a n-gg- kill
go to my room, sleep off my high and hit the door
tellin’ myself, “i ain’t smokin’ weed no more”
but you know them lies as the days go by
me, choo-choo and clyde smokin’ dank till the sun rise
walk into the school house, franklin junior
back when it was cool to kiss and tell and spread rumors
boxin’ toe to toe and everybody in a circle
sockin’ m-th-f-ckas ’til they eyes turn purple
ain’t no set trippin’, no jumpin’, it’s just one on one
fools throwin’ thangs to the end, back then it was fun
no gunshots, no need to hit the floor but after school
the whole city lookin’ up and will support through
to see a little league, a babe ruth baseball game
n-gg-s was down there cuttin’ up or throwin’ thangs
chasin’ five off for hot dogs and fries b-tch
but back then, you still couldn’t tell a n-gg- sh-t
can’t tell me sh-t
(b-tch, made n-gg-s, can’t tell a n-gg- sh-t)
they can’t tell me sh-t
(skanlezz azz bytchez, can’t tell a n-gg- sh-t)
can’t tell me sh-t
(punk police can’t tell a n-gg- sh-t)
they can’t tell me sh-t
(f-ck you b-tch, you can’t tell a n-gg- sh-t)
can’t tell me sh-t
(b-tch, made n-gg-s, can’t tell a n-gg- sh-t)
they can’t tell me sh-t
(skanlezz azz bytchez, can’t tell a n-gg- sh-t)
can’t tell me sh-t
(punk police can’t tell a n-gg- sh-t)
they can’t tell me sh-t
(f-ck you b-tch, you can’t tell a n-gg- sh-t)
got a little older now, the park is a joke
’cause all the ball players out there slangin’ dope
some of my n-gg-s is on grimmies, but i didn’t slip
ain’t that a b-tch? you can’t tell a n-gg- sh-t
so i mind my own, find my home, now i’m in the zone
behind farmers in the alley, gettin’ money on
had ten dollars and j.b. gave me the other ten
bought a breakdown, now i’m goin’ with the wind
brakes with the colors, has ounces and q.p.’s
the half keys, now i’m sellin’ weight to the g’s
hit oxford street, spent a grip, now i’m ready to go
to hogan hoctors, it be b-tches at the talent show
and for all and hoop games had hoes
hilail and hogie, you know it was on fo’ sho’
reece -ssists and redge with the toma hawked up
then the whole town mobbin’ down to the waterfront
n-gg-s in granadas, cougars and mustangs, stars and volvos
n-body f-ckin’ with them girl thangs
me, g-roc, j.b. and lil’ c.mo. puffin’ on indo
splittin’ 4 double o. z.’s
young g’s tryin’ to live
and when they shut the ship door, we goin’ under the bridge
gettin’ whiplashed from the brake gas mash and dip
’cause back then you couldn’t tell a n-gg- sh-t
can’t tell me sh-t
(b-tch, made n-gg-s, can’t tell a n-gg- sh-t)
they can’t tell me sh-t
(skanlezz azz bytchez, can’t tell a n-gg- sh-t)
can’t tell me sh-t
(punk police can’t tell a n-gg- sh-t)
they can’t tell me sh-t
(f-ck you b-tch, you can’t tell a n-gg- sh-t)
can’t tell me sh-t
(b-tch, made n-gg-s, can’t tell a n-gg- sh-t)
they can’t tell me sh-t
(skanlezz azz bytchez, can’t tell a n-gg- sh-t)
can’t tell me sh-t
(punk police can’t tell a n-gg- sh-t)
they can’t tell me sh-t
(f-ck you b-tch, you can’t tell a n-gg- sh-t)
made it to a g but ain’t no love in my city
now we set trippin’, all these fools actin’ sh-tty
n-gg-s wanna reel me in but didn’t know
when you f-ckin’ wit the big fish, you f-ckin’ wit a funeral
no more toe to toe, h.k. forty fours
now what they know about the m-th- f-ckin’ murda shows
strap on my right hand side, in the bay area
sh-t is gettin’ scarier, n-gg-s are barrier
f-ck the bird, i’m the n-gg- bailin’ too early
trigga happy n-gg- wit a head fulla shirlies on
christian brothas in chasin’ it was splits
or drinkin’ hurricanes wit my n-gg-s in da click
so deep, i can’t call it spend about a million dollars
at the liquor store, i’m just an alcoholic
forty water and legit put me on the map
got my foot in the door, now i’m givin’ up dank
sick wit his last job, my nine to five
the sh-t i used to dream about is how i survive
lifestyle of a mack, funk for life, some heat for yo’ azz
them killa kali n-gg-s blast and smash
without a murda weapon or a witness
too many n-gg-s in yo’ car, risky business
they turn snitches
break down and have the po-po’s at yo’ front door
and all real n-gg-s know
who rides sucka free on the solo
when you empty the clip
they can’t tell a n-gg- sh-t
can’t tell me sh-t
(b-tch, made n-gg-s, can’t tell a n-gg- sh-t)
they can’t tell me sh-t
(skanlezz azz bytchez, can’t tell a n-gg- sh-t)
can’t tell me sh-t
(punk police can’t tell a n-gg- sh-t)
they can’t tell me sh-t
(f-ck you b-tch, you can’t tell a n-gg- sh-t)
can’t tell me sh-t
(b-tch, made n-gg-s, can’t tell a n-gg- sh-t)
they can’t tell me sh-t
(skanlezz azz bytchez, can’t tell a n-gg- sh-t)
can’t tell me sh-t
(punk police can’t tell a n-gg- sh-t)
they can’t tell me sh-t
(f-ck you b-tch, you can’t tell a n-gg- sh-t)
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