salaam remi & bodega bamz - bodega's way lyrics
murder, somebody gone die, somebody gone die, somebody gone die tonight
its murder, somebody gone die, somebody gone die
[chorus]
my mom used to pray for my safety
i never left the crib looking shaky
i never let a man try to snake me
i never let a b-tch try to play me
i never had luck so i worked hard
these n-gg-s ride waves like a coast guard
i never seen weight till i weighted money
i never seen hate till i made money
that 38 special like a matinee
i’m walking in the room and they gravitate
i don’t even collaborate
i’m top 10 if you got a rank
could have been whatever until my day come
but i chose to be a real one
cook c-ke at the crack of dawn
tire a rope, fiends tap their arm
jay-z showed us hard knock, life
nip showed us how to hustle, right
left the hood with the thing tucking
if it’s greatness, you can’t rush it
if you fake don’t pump it
i’m on the ship till its sunken
either you the butcher or the meat
either you the cheated or the cheat
either you the few or the many
i showed the picture like lenny, s
on my chest like i’m bulletproof
why lie if you know the truth
i’m from where the happy face don’t smile
lost boy from a lost child
every n-gg- won’t get this
but the n-gg-s who get this will be like “this is my sh-t!”
never trust a side chick
if you out the water, why you fry fish?
i’m live out here, who gonna die this?
only the connect can supply this
[chorus]
my mom used to pray for my safety
i never left the crib looking shaky
i never let a man try to snake me
i never let a b-tch try to play me
i never had luck so i worked hard
these n-gg-s ride waves like a coast guard
i never seen weight till i weighted money
i never seen hate till i made money
[verse 2]
yo, same n-gg-s that be in your face
catch a case and cooperate
pull up to the block, never naked
n-gg-s getting locked, signing statements
undecided like a hung jury
son of a gun from a father’s fury
where i’m from if the glove fit
you the shooter, f-ck the f-ck sh-t
yeah, oj with my egg whites
wheat toast, get this spread right
shine bright like the headlight
her p-ssy great but her head like
pray to the lord now
only god knows let the lord down
i can’t fumble on the first down
i’m the master of my own sound
making noise like a keychain
had the blues on the c train
people need answers, questions don’t
what’s understood, not ever spoke
what’s up with the what’s up?
what’s up with the what’s up?
lean out, no carb diet
clean house, every buy it
one night top floor hyatt
whoever loud i’ma keep quiet
if you gangsta don’t sleep on the don
if she a freak come and sleep with the don
gone!
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