More and more,
on and on it will go,
you know what I'm saying?
Cause we got dreams,
you know,
the tape ghetto dreams,
you know what I'm saying?
P-Tech,
it's reality, you know what I'm saying?
Dreams always starting to ghetto,
and then they raised up to reality,
you know what I'm saying?
And me and this boy,
long time ago as kids,
we playing around,
thinking about, you know, what we gonna do.
Never knew we was gonna be rappers,
but then we took the chance,
DJ Scroo started up everything,
we hook up,
go with Scroo out,
do a few raps,
you know,
blow off time, all of a sudden things
start getting a little serious,
you know,
Pat first dude make a Scroo tape,
you get
on the tape,
and we hear him go off,
we like,
man,
anybody can do this here,
man,
we get
the...
It
was wine,
Berry over golden,
don't handcuff these hoes cause only players get chosen,
can't get no bread if you standing rye loafing,
and watch out for the jackers cause them boys
always roaching,
backseat of my granny's Chevy Nova,
knew that I would always be the
one when I got older,
when I jumped off the porch,
I got embedded in the culture,
on the
Maxwell tapes and talking,
wanna get to know you,
now my cup runneth over,
wanna be your
third coaster,
but I never had a spill with all the syrup in my soda,
chain smoking,
swish
the sweets a block away,
can smell the odor,
sitting posted with the heat,
young niggas
feeling like spostra, 25 lighters,
25 cyphers of getting colder,
sharp of mind prevail,
cut
from a different cloth from the shoulders,
had to protect your neck,
dusting out your
soul for some new jewels,
had to inspect the deck if it wasn't screwed,
that * was fufu,
but no disrespect,
coming from a south side point of view,
we had a different rep,
ball
phase with Nikes on our shoes,
golden platinum tooth,
even with the shine you couldn't see
us,
candy apple red on the rocky malvias,
chunking up the deuce,
body rocking,
no stumble,
baby screaming tap tap before they can mumble,
crawling on the glass feeling like Peter Parker,
but my neighborhood ain't friendly,
8900 til I'm a martyr,
braids with Aristotle, the
dapper den of dependmentship,
raised in the village of G's,
crafting my sentences definitive,
lyrically 101 with the sickness,
blessing in the curse,
maxing the pain like Stanley Ipkiss,
you
know what I'm talking about?
Southwest legend.
Vegas.
Dave
he can't get
– So Mad!
Me and my partner KK, we gon–
his big bro.
B-Oogah Whoop, Glomov, Nigel, Deice, Enke,