Tytuł: ON MY WAY TO HARLEM

• Wykonawca: Coolio
• Wyświetleń: 254

Verse 1:
  
  I know a place where the trees don't grow
  Just another place where niggaz live low
  I know a place where life is fucked up
  Make a wrong move and your ass get stuck up
  Time ain't nothin but a frame of mind
  And life is like a mountain or a steep ass climb
  I've been lookin for a place to leave
  The only free place is inside of me
  So let's take a trip, and you don't need a grip
  But you better be equipped cause it might be some shit
  African-American, nothin but a nigga
  Had our fingers on the trigger, but I pulled mine quicker
  I know a place where there ain't no calm and
  You better stay away if you're soft like Charmin
  South Central, Los Angeles, Watts, and Compton
  A nigga on the west coast on his way to Harlem
  
  Verse 2:
  
  Now it's time to step into the light (Light)
  Put up your dukes, there's gonna be a fight (Fight)
  And when it's time to fight, you better fight right
  Cause if it don't fight right, out goes the light
  Take a close look at what I'm freakin on
  Niggaz think I'm tweekin, but I'm speakin on
  Subject matter, data
  Information that I gather
  Through my travels
  Cause the hardest of the hard, hit hardcore killer
  Can't stop the slug of a nine millimeter
  Everybody thinks they know, but they know not
  If they haven't caught a cap on the block *gunshot*
  So shine up your boots and pick up the pieces
  Grab a fresh pair of khakis with the sharp ass creases
  Ring the alarm, here comes the storm
  I got a firearm on my way to Harlem
  
  Verse 3:
  
  I know a place where the sun don't shine
  Everybody is a victim of neighborhood crime
  I know a place where niggaz walk the line
  One false step and they must do time
  Since I'm in the same boat
  I must stay afloat
  And sing every note
  From the quotes that they wrote
  So, I look into the past and walk the path of the greats
  So I wont make the same mistakes that sealed my ancestors fates
  If I had to be a slave I'd rather be in my grave
  If I get in how many lives could I save?
  One, two, three, a hundred, a thousand
  My heart is poundin, the devil keeps soundin
  But he don't want my money, he wants my soul
  So I reach like a tree, and like a weed I grow
  My stomach is full, but my mind is starvin
  Rollin in a G ride on my way to Harlem