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potna deuce - let u tell it lyrics

(i ain’t gotta lie to kick it, or lounge)
(since everywhere i go is trouble-infested)
(i ain’t gotta lie to kick it, or lounge)
(i talks bad, way about a silly tramp b-tch)
(i ain’t gotta lie to kick it, or lounge)
(since everywhere i go is trouble-infested)
(i ain’t gotta lie to kick it, or lounge)
[rube] (i talks bad, way about a silly tramp b-tch)

[verse 1: rube]
congratulations for your patience, folks
young rube comin through with the trey gold spokes
i need yokes on a b-tch i wanna get with
i need a old school mob with a shift kit
left, right, head bobbin, mob type of chaos
all you punks talkin jeal’, tear the sh-t way off
cause i ain’t with the funny style charades
i rather hit ’em doggy while i’m tuggin dookie braids
i’m talkin bad m-th-f-cker with the sick rappin
i’m talkin slang from the turf and not the pig latin
my pops told me when i was at the aj
never become a suspect of a date rape
if she don’t want ya you don’t need her
you don’t buy her clothes, you don’t feed her
never would i cross over for applause
never would i save a hoe for the drawers
“can’t we all get along” was the question
that they shot to the blacks and the mexicans
answer came back like this, potna, “eat a d-ck”
sh-t is f-cked up and you too blind to see a trick

(i got no words for the sucker b-tts, the tricks, the clowns)
(and i ain’t trippin, my shoes is tied)
(i got no words for the sucker b-tts, the tricks, the clowns)
(cause m-th-f-ckers mo’ dirty than a sh-t stain)
(i got no words for the sucker b-tts, the tricks, the clowns)
(and i ain’t trippin, my shoes is tied)
(i got no words for the sucker b-tts, the tricks, the clowns)
[beesh] (cause m-th-f-ckers mo’ dirty than a sh-t stain)

[verse 2: beesh]
crack my cranium, check what’s inside
i got a whole lot of things on my mind
feelin like a bloodclot
i’m stuck in a state, weary of the jack move
i couldn’t stand the rock, i stay hip to the black groove
playa pimpin sh-ttin for the swingers, man
house parties bunk, gettin out of hand
young buck strivin for the c-ckola
15 and couldn’t wait till i was older
at that point didn’t think about carryin
a fat gat, all my potnas, they be buried in
and now i’m my twenties and i’m like f-ck
i got the rabbit’s foot searchin for the right luck
and house parties shut down before they get started
a young fool had to go and try to get retarted
that’s how it goes in the nine-o, i can’t deny it
i’m out to get mine, pockets never on a diet
black on black and brown on brown
crime in the town, player haters and the c-ck hounds
( ? ) old school left in the old days
before the crack, before the aids, before the ( ? )

(i gaffle on the baggy when i’m jigga-jigga-limpin)
(funk slave soldier in the paint gettin heated)
(i gaffle on the baggy when i’m jigga-jigga-limpin)
(the gut runna killa, call me beaver hunter)
(i gaffle on the baggy when i’m jigga-jigga-limpin)
(funk slave soldier in the paint gettin heated)
(i gaffle on the baggy when i’m jigga-jigga-limpin)
[chezski] (the gut runna killa, call me beaver hunter)

[verse 3: chezski]
and really when you think about the pain stroke
busy tryina do for me and all my kinfolk
i hate it when i’m lookin at my po’ father
strugglin to keep his head above the risin water
but still he’s gotta push in the cold wind
take a look up at his life till it soaks in
and promise to myself when i’m holdin fat
i’ma break him off a chunk and give some love back
get it ‘fore they do is how the game’s played
i try to follow rules and mama kool-aid
then again i’m lookin up for the steep hill
my people first, and need a nother refill
and brothers on the search for the good job
tired of bein labelled as an old slob
but never does he find what he look fo’
a lotta jobs for the rich and none for the po’
that’s why i’m dippin low with a loose screw
and when it comes to this it ain’t sh-t new
real to the say and tell it all straight
never trippin off the fools that wanna raise hate

- potna deuce lyrics

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