its as clear as day, gramps gone away
gramps with the hearing aid and the clear tube when he urinate
he didnt remember shit but he knew my face
the last time I saw him I was twenty eight
he was ninety-eight, now I’m twenty nine
and he was ninety-nine when he had to die
a few years shy of a hundred and five
i figured if anybody coulda made it under the sky
it woulda been him with the lunch that he buy
‘eat healthy u get to live till a hundred and five’
Yeah, he said that while I was munching this fry
and while I had fruit punch on the side
Okay I get it
when you’re born you just die
But the time to get there is fly, or just fly, so hop along for the ride
im cruisin, scoot over on to the side,
i do my thing in the sky, but we all stars, yeah all of us die
this rap shit is what I muster inside
and its deep, so I wonder what keep all of you busters alive
gramps was a hustla and all hustlers thrive
so lets celebrate the spirit of a hustla tonite
let me bust out a rhyme, let me cuss out the mic
rest in peace, let me bust out the pipe
i dont drink wine but i smoke purple haze
blueberry chocolate blunts is like my birthday cake
so light it up!
like we burn the stake
u want beef muthafucka, I could serve ya steak
yeah?
im high muthafucka, I conserve this state
like its my normal state, i never pause or break
im on top muthafucka like a young nas or jay
and i love this shit becuz im high all day
yay
I get twisted light the la and pray
and im black muthafucka, im not white or grey
yeah
i walk the path straight but the path is frayed
and I do it for the cash so from the path I strayed
but since I do it for the cash look how much cash I made
so excuse me if my cash just fucking crashed your day
yeah
Mister Potato Head could mash your face
And hit u in the spot right where you stash your eights
ooowww
If u not scared then why’d your crap your BAPES
I always found the color brown is fuckin wack and gay
yeah, always reminds me of fucking crack and shake
I let the streets take care of that then i sit back and wait
Uh huh, paper is what you lack, and faith
But the faith wont come until your act is straight
And your act is straight when you stop actin fake
But you could still get an Oscar in this time and day
yyyeeeeah, I spit this everytime becuz the rhyme is straight
I just freestyle in my head then I rewind the tape
So when I spit it to you live can you transcribe the take?
I let the inner city guide my dire times and straits
and I can hustle any guy that think that crime dont pay
I dont do this 9 to 5, i do this 9 to 8
so you can find me in the streets where I just lie awake
the meaning of ‘forever’ I design and shape
im on my grind all the time till I recline and break……
I’ve been searching for that image that will show something about moving. Something about waiting to move, about the movement, and a reflection on the movement. The fact that we sit still when watching movies accounts for all kinds of reflections on that. That’s why the still image can be so moving.
yo im all dried up
i need a drink and a wine cup
i feel high, drunk, yeah, its fine skunk
yo im sayin who should inherit my nike dunks?
my vest here, my fresh gear
yeah my Polo with the crest here
I always had style, no Guess here
And 3rd base’s always been my quest dear
Can you read what it says here?
I pitch, I bat, bitch, I’m rich, I’m fat
Im not Rick Ross but I’m rich like that
I got big bawls and they itch in fact
my female DJ is gonna reach and scratch
Yeah muthafucka, I teach you that
This game is like a fucking diva batch
What you know about Adidas hats?
adidas shoes b. , Im on my p’s and q’s
Ok your gear is fly, but your fuckin jeans is used
You bought this shit in 92 with sum Fila shoes
what you know ’bout homies gettin buried in Fila suits?
That’s a hustla thing, bitch eat a soup
Some muthafuckin hustlas dont need to prove
But you large muthafuckas still need a stool
You snitch muthafuckas still be a stool
Thats the ways of the hood and will be as rule…
shit, I make my money anyway anyhow
Thats the point of the game anywhere anytown
Im from brick buildings with sick children around
But we still party hard when the killings is down
yo real city talk, i see the sun and light a spliff in the dark
uh, i buy a fifth of that uuhhh, and then I spit and I spark
im gettin twisted yeah this is gettin risky as fuck
and rite now im bout to fill me a cup
im bout to roll me a blunt, maybe gold me a front,
hey look homie you drunk?
hell no, im stealth yo, i could throw a jab with my elbow
im somethin else tho’, somethin gelled, from the L to the shelltoe
rap is all that you forgot to say to your ex hoe
it’s sumtin you can’t find in a text yo
sometimes its all in your head bro
or when u see me spit it and all the effects hold
you cant harm me with threats, so you can call me a vet
around me theres always a death,
And I can kill…so maybe i should join the army instead
But I’m not number one…thats funny I said
You dumb fucks eat paper thinkin money is bread
This rap shit is something poverty fed
so its sumtin outside economy, yeah?
I school you, i know you fond of me, eh?
but muthafucka if u on to me, I calmly will jet
then reach back and pump a shot in your head
oh shit muthafucka youre dead
oh shit this muthafucka is dead
Yeah I know, this shit is kinda fucked up like I said.
drawling out every syllable rhythimically making everything rhyme as if it couldnt…but in the mouths of such artists words are like smaller utterances of musical notes…
As a young Buc school is sumtin’ I set aside/
he was visibly shaken but gradually the momentum was building up and you could see it overtake his body, his chest completely out, his head up, his hand low on his paintswaist, his red fitted baseball cap backwards, and the energized spirit in his bloodshot eyes.
I’m bloood…in the sky!…and its fly!/
He looked up above as if talking to the Lord…
Shoot a bullet in his thigh and spray his side/
Soo Woo is revolution but Soo Woo is not televised
Soo Woo is from the streets of the Beddastuy…..
This is of course, incredible. There is no soprano sax like Twista’s voice.
There is of course the studio version. Peep how he changes some of the words but keeps the rhyme. He comes up with rhyming synonyms. And his images are incredibly vivid. http://www.zshare.net/audio/60656444cea03859/
One morning I
Woke up next to a chocolate fee and a red bone
My dick was hard I started stroking and poking After toppin I tell ‘em to roll a blunt
Cause on the front I hear them niggas steady smoking and jokin
I heard it’s gonna be hot outside, gotta get up and lay my clothes out It’s gonna be too many hoes out
Before my ladies rolled out I got ‘em to clean up the whole house
Then I threw my fit on look in the mirror get on gone
“Nigga, you looking dope plus you got a knot ($$$)”
Ain’t no cruising up out the hop
I’m hangin by the spot cuz I had to put the Lexus off up in the shop
But it’s all to the good, it’s a hood thang
Never too bogus, notice the love on the block: that nigga coolin Aiming the radio out the window, steady grooving Sit by the cornerstore with the indo steady movin’ Niggas who flippin new 98’s is steady cruising
Bumpin up the block, flossin for the chicks cuz they riches But I ain’t leavin’ off the front with the blunt
Set a switch, and im pullin in all the thickest young misses
At the crib I can’t get caught with heat
If it’s some static, I shall talk and sweep
I go and get the B’s up off but chief “Get me if the phone for me, I’m at the party across the street”
I’m enjoying the breeze high degreez and no ease
Pockets be full of G’s smoking B’s hiding the fees
Making no enemies, no po-p’s yellin out “Freeze”
Serving niggas wit ease, stacking cheese so nigga please…
Of course, we have the Joell Ortiz “Good Times” in the same vein of these “summer day in the hood” tracks.
I’m always astounded when I listen to some of the most recent work from Wayne. It’s always done in some kind of ordinary bad pop rock taste but it is so much its own UFO that it transcends everything it seems to emulate.
I think the logic is just shameless appropriation. Which is what hip hop is about anyway.
Nicki is straight out of a graphic novel that Goines would write if he was still alive.
There’s a good energy in the Young Money camp. Mack Maine and Young Money are all learning from Wayne. Nicki is the most obvious student (“I’m a ninja/ Weezy is my sensei”), but she stands on her own.
Some Weezy highlights:
I carry luggage with me, cuz y’allz is a fuckin trip!
I need good brains from a thinker
Weezy F Baby and the F is for a bunch of shit/
Red drank, blue pill, white dust/
Yes I love my country bitch/
