[Cormega and Tragedy - intro]
|
Yo, son it's real, you know what I'm saying?
|
A man is often condemned or exalted by his words, you know?
|
That's why we feelin' my niggas going through the struggle
|
QB-Brooklawn
|
Y'all niggas hold on... if you can't hold on, hang on, you know?
|
|
[Cormega]
|
Yo, I seen it all, coke rise and kingdoms fall
|
Profits in sneaker boxes, riches hidden between the walls
|
The hood agony
|
I'm one of the few who ever understood Tragedy
|
Batteries not included in my music
|
Or holding up my spinal cord
|
Niggas be lyin' on wax
|
Committing vinyl fraud
|
Denyin' the fact
|
They never slung or fired a gat
|
Mega's tongue is ghetto, dun
|
Hello
|
Where I'm from is the crime and graffiti
|
And NYPD
|
Broken glass, .44's, open caskets
|
Shorty ballers pop shit when they' rock hits the basket
|
The only life we know
|
I flow so precisely, though
|
My chain got the icy glow
|
B-Mer Jeep shine with Lorenzos shine brightly, yo
|
Laugh now, cry later, one day I might be broke
|
And tellin' niggas I need coke
|
Shit is real
|
|
[Chorus x2 - Tragedy Khadafi]
|
See the good Lord giveth and he taketh away
|
But niggas talk it and don't live it, then they forced to pay
|
I'm just trying to be a man in this poison land
|
Forgive me, Father - they forced my hand
|
|
[Tragedy Khadafi]
|
Yo, visualize Mahdi as a shorty Fidel Castro
|
Snotty nose, nappy afro
|
Never realized in due time what I would have, though, yo
|
Before I spit at a ho I used to bag up blow
|
Little bastard - rockin' Pumas under two-tones
|
As we roam from the streets to the group home, yo
|
Watchin' mob flicks, clappin' at imaginary targets
|
Adolescents up in Spofford, facing hardship
|
Newborns grew up on Anita Baker songs
|
In the 'hood, wonderin' why the police hate us all
|
Up late nights waiting for the next day to fall
|
We're up late nights waiting for the next day to fall
|
My stomach hurtin', still searchin' for a way out
|
On an Island where P.C. was a gay house
|
Made my first board, stabbin' niggas on the way out
|
I knew cats who got bagged they' first day out
|
Yo
|
|
[Chorus x2]
|
|
[Cormega]
|
Yo, Trag, we been down for years(word)
|
From rappin' in the 'hood
|
To promising careers
|
It's all good
|
The rap game is new to me
|
The crack game - true to me(my life)
|
Accept the consequences
|
And the blood money cruelty
|
Yo, remember you and me? Back in the days
|
You had a sheepskin, I had a goose and Pumas in gray
|
(You remember that shit!)
|
We even did the same dorm in C-74
|
More than boys we were fuckin' outlaws
|
|
[Tragedy Khadafi]
|
If I could break you out the courtroom, and clap through reporters
|
Kidnap the jurors - and whack all their daughters
|
The Montanas, Al Po's and Rich Porters
|
Mandela time - get smacked with two quarters
|
A life speed - fuckin' with cracks and weed
|
Yo, I sniffed so much coke, I froze with nosebleeds
|
Jumpin' over snow cliffs without the skis(shit is crazy, yo)
|
Then I saw shit was real, and I switched my steez
|
|
[Chorus x4]
|
|
(outro)
|
Trials and tribulations... you gotta shine...
|
regardless to what... nah'mean?
|
All of my niggas growin' up strugglin' - word
|
I see y'all out there - live ya life, man, stick your chest out, against all odds, you can handle that shit. If you couldn't handle it, it wouldn't fall on you, man - believe that. Nah'mean? Strap your shit up, pa. Keep it moving. Shit ain't nothin'. We live this, son! Word, that's what we do nigga. Y'all feel that?
|
|
-----------------
|
They Forced My Hand
|
Cormega |