First off, I've gotta say that the typer of this song made several mistakes. you should listen to the song for yourself.
This song is so memorable. A classic. Ron Isley is a G.
Nas was incredibly poetic on this song. Some lines that really got me where:
"Crippled dope fiends in wheelchairs stare
vision blurry, cus buried deep in they mind are hidden stories"
"Bet he's a mirror image of that 70's era
finished for the rest of his life, till he fades out
The liquor store workers miss him but then it plays out
so many ways out the hood but no signs say out
Mental slavehouse where gats go off, I show off
niggas up north, prison-ology talk, till they time cut off
"
"Stack loot and guns, teach the girls karate, school your sons not to hate
but to stay awake, cus the scars a razor make is nothin' in comparison
to the gas left on this whole mass, if we don't get it controlled fast
might as well be, laughin' with Malcolm X's assassin as we die slow
perishin', brain dead from a Erickson
Words are the medicine, two teaspoons for goons
a cup of it for those thuggin' it, y'all sing the tune"
Another day, another dollar, my mother would
She said go and see the world for myself, and my brother should falla
Pops was smooth, from his top to his shoes
sang the blues, guitar strings he played smokin' his doo
? hat, picture this, yo, seventies cat
He wrote his music in the back of the crib, I did my homework
At night the windows were speakers, pumpin' life out
a fight, people screamin' cus somebody pulled a knife out
So I look at this room, I'm hooked to this tune
every night the same melody, hell sounded so heavenly
But jail was ahead of me, speeding like an amphedamine
First off, I've gotta say that the typer of this song made several mistakes. you should listen to the song for yourself.
This song is so memorable. A classic. Ron Isley is a G.
Nas was incredibly poetic on this song. Some lines that really got me where:
"Crippled dope fiends in wheelchairs stare vision blurry, cus buried deep in they mind are hidden stories"
"Bet he's a mirror image of that 70's era finished for the rest of his life, till he fades out The liquor store workers miss him but then it plays out so many ways out the hood but no signs say out Mental slavehouse where gats go off, I show off niggas up north, prison-ology talk, till they time cut off "
"Stack loot and guns, teach the girls karate, school your sons not to hate but to stay awake, cus the scars a razor make is nothin' in comparison to the gas left on this whole mass, if we don't get it controlled fast might as well be, laughin' with Malcolm X's assassin as we die slow perishin', brain dead from a Erickson Words are the medicine, two teaspoons for goons a cup of it for those thuggin' it, y'all sing the tune"
Another day, another dollar, my mother would She said go and see the world for myself, and my brother should falla Pops was smooth, from his top to his shoes sang the blues, guitar strings he played smokin' his doo ? hat, picture this, yo, seventies cat He wrote his music in the back of the crib, I did my homework At night the windows were speakers, pumpin' life out a fight, people screamin' cus somebody pulled a knife out So I look at this room, I'm hooked to this tune every night the same melody, hell sounded so heavenly But jail was ahead of me, speeding like an amphedamine