Black Sheep Autobiographical lyrics

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Autobiographical by Black Sheep Autobiographical lyrics It's the brown child, better version of the story Sees Conji, a sister, mother played by Tori In Astoria, kid named Tiki took the cake The greens and the steak and the potatoes and the plate Never a dummy, rejections are funny First years of my life I thought that food stamps were money So by ten I was the mess, got a men and then I had friend So now I'm snatching pocket books with Sean Wilkinson ‘Get that money, lil nigga' that's what they told me I never sweated props cause like my pops they couldn't hold me Until he found shorty's got it going on, rolling on Who told? Damn, bendecion.. The Bland man, and my pop don't give a damn The day I played with matches, took the stove to my hand Hot temperature! He told me the players' version The ego in submersion for the end of week excursion Until I'm back, back on the scene Like a ball on the green, giving strokes with my team And despite the commentary pop told me, I'm lowly And moms change-bank can't hold me, so She don't scold me, she just grabs the belt Knuckle the buckle, tells me all about the pain she felt At the precinct when a pre-teen was spotted at the scene Came up with the green, not a cop could intervene [Mother] Listen here, you little motherfucker You ain't going to fuck with me Got me coming to this damn precinct Dammit, I'm a kick your motherfucking ass Shit! You ain't going to drive me crazy Now, happens Tori met Tom not too long ago He was a nigga,, yo, he said he had the flow though He loved a bro, I know I didn't see you grow To a TV show cause the nigga said we all could go So I'm up and out of the ghetto, son of a gold miner City-slicking Carolinian standing out like Ming china A golden bull at heart though I moved around The balls bounced to the bottom, settled at a small town ‘Hey, boy! What's your name?!' First day, first fight I'm out of New York and, boy, it don't sit right if you're white Light were my steps from there Did my dirt on the low, a Southern town nightmare Cause the next year it was me and Ef on the furlough We were the only Queens kids but there were other boroughs With Rockwell, D-Ski, Ron Duke and Freddie New York was represented like we danced for Rock Steady Stan had tables and mics, every brother nice Not only could we rip and rhyme but backspin and slice With Paris and Foxy and Christina P's bust You know them loud, raunchy, trouble-making niggas? That was us A menace yet still I played tennis, ain't that cruddy Advanced with the Reeboks, they called them ‘cut buddies' I hung with one, only one younger brother Shorty Doo-Wop could cut and scratch up any other Bigger than his size, was barely five feet In ‘83 broke beats that today rock streets With no one to grade it, still never debated Some saw and hated but they never contemplated It was the wild child with foul styles, pal but not foul A dis was never okay unless it came before corral Pals of mine, peoples though were down I graduate next week and, yo, next week I'm NY bound Seven days from that one I'm leaving love that weighs a ton I'm going to miss you niggas, yo, that rapping shit was crazy fun But I'm leaving on the next bus I've got your numbers and we'll keep in touch, I trust Gliding, riding back to my domain For love and money, fuck fame, my life will never be the same As the next man's words, can you dig it? I say I got a scheme, a-yo, I gots you figured [Corner] Yo, wassup, wassup. Is money out here? Yo, I just got a call from that nigga Tiki Remember that nigga Tiki? He on his way from down South My real pops was a pusher, when we left he had a section So I keep it in the family, or at least I make connection With the prime figures for affiliated support In my purchase of cargo in the import and export Flushing, Queens: back when junkies was the fiends My childhood friends held buddha, had babies in dreams I took pops off my shit list cause he had the fitness To help Tiki get his, what the fuck, pop? Jehovah witness What the fuck, pop? What's with the fizz-plop I'm like, I can't put him down but the shit don't stop Worked at a law firm, for lack of fear I wrote a resume, spending words like a millionaire >From there to the bank, see the bank's down the block So now I'm close to home, I clock, I plot With Popote, he's my cousin and a wily one Though the kid was younger, quick like thunder With the heart to put you under Props even, the shit can't fail I saw Reese, bagged with Pote and made a sale [Co-Dee] Go ahead, get that money Get that money! I ain't going to let nobody see you I got your back, baby, I got your back You want five? You only got two On one late night, I had made a nice amount More than two weeks pay, playing with the new accounts So I rose like a petal, fuck pops, I run with thugs Levis, Tims, hoodie, coat, skully, drugs Fatigues before they were the fashion Pockets with work and others with cash in Thought I was cool with tools and mad trap My pops was like “read this” but I was like fuck that So I jingle-jangled, clocked at every angle Tiki's getting paid and his crew's star-spangled And everyday, all day/night, yo, whatever Niggas on the strip in sub-zero weather Back before the first generation of fiends My team was sheer cream, keeping dollar bills green Fashion, Calvin cooler, playing Rick the Ruler And I can't front on nobody cause I pulled on a woolah Back in '86 ­ first, foremost and final Rhyming on the corner, all I want to be's on vinyl I bum rush and boom bash, not even for merit Bounce out to see Reg and Joe down on Merrick But mostly it's the strip that I played like a cock On the block until the day I got knocked [Police sirens to fade]


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