Тональность: G minor
Verse 1
Em
So if I die tonight,
will all my dogs have my back?
Hit by a bullet, a quick end,
a model Mac
With my words pursuable,
people say that I blew it,
getting anonymous calls
Telling my moms that they knew it,
who the fuck would do it?
Living my life day by day,
clutching on my nine
Cause everyone lives to last,
six feet under with no covers in the stack
Fuck the fame, give me the bills,
alone but here to stay
I sold my soul to the game,
only thinking success
Packing paper and pens,
therefore my poetry's blessed
Too much stress on my chest,
but I'm doing my best
Think I'm falling,
but I study for any kind of test
Shake the hand of the devil,
too high, but nicely dressed
Walking down the wrong
alleys and streets,
wear no vest
Posted up in cemeteries,
smoking bolts to the head
R .I .P. to all my people,
no more tears to shed
D
Em
C'mon, West Coast, R .I .P. baby,
D
Em
street life here, West Coast, R .I .P. baby,
Am
Em
hold it down, street life
I be that great white shark
inside the dark,
ready for any chaotic action to spark
My vision is blurry, I'm in a hurry,
pumping blood
My life is all twisted with wicked shit,
but I'm a thug
I'm having these thoughts
and conversations about dying
That's why I hold my Glock close,
especially when I'm riding
Trust no man, stick to yourself,
that's no lying, ha
Another thought in my mind,
I must lace in my rhyme
If I die tonight,
will fools spit on my lines?
Or will they quote my lines,
straight bump my rhymes?
Don't fucking hate on mine,
too fully loaded knives
Now who watches us battle?
G
We're all the government's cattle
Em
But I'm a wolf amongst the sheep,
the ground
I'm a straddle,
I'm the shadow in shadows
Sleeping on chimney mantles
As our life slowly dies
like the wax from candles
I hold the mic to take over,
smashing in a raindrop
And fuck luck, you're hood
and a four -leaf clover
So once I die, bury me,
cheat up from the feet
I box my copy
when I'm six feet deep,
you feel me?
D
H -P -G, grab it, momma make
Em
Barely soldiers, west coast
Dying every day, R .I .P., baby
On the corners, hold it down
Am
Corrosions make you pay
D
Em
Street life here, gangly soldiers,
west coast,
dying everyday, on my P baby,
on the corners, hold it down,
Am
Em
our oceans making pain, street life.
We can't prevent this,
all of this killing is relentless,
the reason why I wrote
this song and I sent it,
to all my fans, family, friends
and hence they get em up, one on one,
don't need to run to your cuete,
this body's dropping all
over the place,
because of that we start becoming
that minority race,
Open your eyes and start
soaking up game
Brown killing brown,
come on that's a goddamn shame
We have soldiers from the streets
dying every day
Making G's,
coming up then getting locked away
A lot of grown men
that have little kids to raise
And then they wonder why we're
G
Em
chasing down them better days
It's me against the whole world
and I can feel it
So spark a blunt to your head, homie, kill it
And if I die tonight,
grab your brew and spill it
And never forget my little Mac,
Em
Yeah, West Coast, R .I .P. baby
On the corners, hold it down,
Am
Kawosh is making bangs
D
Em
Street life, Galley Soldiers, West Coast
Dying everyday, R .I .P. baby
On the corners, hold it down,
Am
Kawosh is making bangs
Em
G
Em
Street life, Galley Soldiers, West Coast
Dying everyday, R .I .P. baby
On the corners, hold it down,
Am
car wash is making pain
D
Em
Street life, galley soldiers,
west coast, dying everyday
On the corners, hold it down,
Am
car wash is making pain
Yeah, this song's dedicated
to all them fallen soldiers
C
Em
You know what I'm saying?
All them young soldiers
left out victim to the streets
Rest in peace to my homie Ohio Torres
Playing for keeps
My homie Deuce
Playing for keeps
And anybody else
From L .A. I .E. O .C. S .D.
Who gives a fuck where you're from
Rest in peace
Yours truly model Mac
Need a peep game,
need to be smarter than this
I'm out
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