Lloyd Banks - Southside Story
i done learn from mistake from my men
who's not whose gone run?
who's not whose gone shoot if you shot?
who gone hold they own who's not
who's gone choose spots?
in the streets of new york you can't trust nobody
ni99a will run up on you wit a 12 gate shoty
when your jaycobs freeze smokin' weed is my hobby
you wanna rob me your gonna leave here wit a body
when i was 10 years old i seen a ni99a take 3 in the head
probably around the same time he used to pee in the bed
i stay a wake cuz my nightmares of seeing him dead
the smell of burnt tire after leaving him lead
the killer fled wit a f**kin laugh
my heart pumpin on blast i just stare at him something to grasp
arms moving figure shaking spitting up blood
dna mixed in the mud another ditch to be dug
there i stood stiffer than wood
see homie use to buy me candy
now he's gone whose provide his family
my ear ringing should have been runnin'
i never thought i could be that sick
damn! i was suppose to see that sh*t
that's when i thought it was more than 3 shots
he could have been aiming for me
maybe he circled around the block
i turn around to my pops
he like what happen?
this ni99a rolled up and started clappin'
i can still hear em' laughin'
it was a regular day in southside
sprink-aklers kids running all of a sudden
heads turnin somebody did somethin'
this ni99a name i forgot
f**k it he lived around the block
regular getting money ni99a
but love to clown a lot
walked across the park stuntin' frontin'
diamond in his hear diamond watch on
eatin' a bag of popcorn
walked up behind this shorty grabbin' her waist
she pushed him away so he threw the bag in her face
she felt disrespected shorty couldn't except it
called him a p**sy told him she be back in a second
he didn't pay her no mind called her b**ch bout 4 times
stayed in the park wit a ni99a wit a mano nine
then in no time older ni99a
from behind swung a baseball bat
left his face all cracked told him take all that
hit him again popped his chain wit a frown
love to clown wit his stain on the ground
and all my days go by blowin that sticky icky
california made me picky chicken heads tryin to stick me wit a hicky
if we go up quickly stick me
somewhere tipsy the location don't matter
i'm southside to they hit me
i'd be dead it foots can kill
i'm from the ghetto boys
but i don't know scarface
i'd push wit bill
my heart spills for the kids
that ain't got nothing
they gotta steal and
for my cousin i lost
leftover i still remember you
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