Dirty Acres Lyrics
| Song | Dirty Acres |
| Artist | Cunninlynguists |
| Album | Dirty Acres |
| Download | Image LRC TXT |
| 作曲 : Bush, Eames, Figgs ... | |
| (Verse 1 - Deacon) | |
| Ice cube said laugh now, cry later | |
| It's sad to see us livin like that till pine's laid up | |
| Not straight up about death or missteps | |
| No regrets, just weed, sex, worldly patterns | |
| I miss Vatos and Bless, i miss my sister | |
| The other day my nigga was stabbed to death | |
| I laughed with step bout holy scripture | |
| Holdin blunts bigger than his casket, growed amongst grass unkept | |
| Still smokin, bet he's still blowin | |
| Singin with sam cooke bout a change comin as we keep pourin | |
| Liquor out for those that passed | |
| It's killin our livers because we dyin so fast | |
| Low on cash, who ain't? ain't no jobs | |
| Either you slang and make music or you detail cars | |
| Ya cut hair, ya sell clothes or you live on charge | |
| I barely got enough bread to give a cell phone bars | |
| Fuck puttin bars on paper, there's bars in face of | |
| Half my niggas, spark the garcia vegas and ride country | |
| I'll be damned if they stealin my pride from me | |
| Fuck the world, i ain't destined to die hungry | |
| (hook) | |
| The lies, the pain, the truth, the hurt | |
| The music, the soul, it's all in the dirt | |
| (bridge) | |
| Lay back and just ride | |
| Just ride | |
| (Verse 2 - Natti) | |
| Enter my zone, blunts stuffed enough for self | |
| Bravin this world, puttin up smoke for help | |
| Peace pipe under the street lights type of wealth | |
| Greenery coats the scenery, my whip turn left | |
| Right away from them rollers posted up at the corner | |
| Schemin to meet they quota off of niggas with soda | |
| They love to get em together like lime and corona | |
| Twisted, like my niggas still reppin they hood | |
| Don't own a brick up in that bitch but swingin they wood | |
| Goin to bat for that? shit, i wish i would | |
| In the thick of it, only with my kin i stood | |
| Make sense of it with dollars only if i could | |
| To trade children and a beautiful wife for a crack pipe | |
| Or beaten in the system, just missin the daylight | |
| Or missin in the system of hustlin all night | |
| Shit must have been a'ight at some point in our sight | |
| Till in a fashion we rationed off a portion of life | |
| Coastin into a future that we strive to make bright, come on | |
| Coastin into a future that we strive to make bright, let's go |
| zuo qu : Bush, Eames, Figgs ... | |
| Verse 1 Deacon | |
| Ice cube said laugh now, cry later | |
| It' s sad to see us livin like that till pine' s laid up | |
| Not straight up about death or missteps | |
| No regrets, just weed, sex, worldly patterns | |
| I miss Vatos and Bless, i miss my sister | |
| The other day my nigga was stabbed to death | |
| I laughed with step bout holy scripture | |
| Holdin blunts bigger than his casket, growed amongst grass unkept | |
| Still smokin, bet he' s still blowin | |
| Singin with sam cooke bout a change comin as we keep pourin | |
| Liquor out for those that passed | |
| It' s killin our livers because we dyin so fast | |
| Low on cash, who ain' t? ain' t no jobs | |
| Either you slang and make music or you detail cars | |
| Ya cut hair, ya sell clothes or you live on charge | |
| I barely got enough bread to give a cell phone bars | |
| Fuck puttin bars on paper, there' s bars in face of | |
| Half my niggas, spark the garcia vegas and ride country | |
| I' ll be damned if they stealin my pride from me | |
| Fuck the world, i ain' t destined to die hungry | |
| hook | |
| The lies, the pain, the truth, the hurt | |
| The music, the soul, it' s all in the dirt | |
| bridge | |
| Lay back and just ride | |
| Just ride | |
| Verse 2 Natti | |
| Enter my zone, blunts stuffed enough for self | |
| Bravin this world, puttin up smoke for help | |
| Peace pipe under the street lights type of wealth | |
| Greenery coats the scenery, my whip turn left | |
| Right away from them rollers posted up at the corner | |
| Schemin to meet they quota off of niggas with soda | |
| They love to get em together like lime and corona | |
| Twisted, like my niggas still reppin they hood | |
| Don' t own a brick up in that bitch but swingin they wood | |
| Goin to bat for that? shit, i wish i would | |
| In the thick of it, only with my kin i stood | |
| Make sense of it with dollars only if i could | |
| To trade children and a beautiful wife for a crack pipe | |
| Or beaten in the system, just missin the daylight | |
| Or missin in the system of hustlin all night | |
| Shit must have been a' ight at some point in our sight | |
| Till in a fashion we rationed off a portion of life | |
| Coastin into a future that we strive to make bright, come on | |
| Coastin into a future that we strive to make bright, let' s go |
| zuò qǔ : Bush, Eames, Figgs ... | |
| Verse 1 Deacon | |
| Ice cube said laugh now, cry later | |
| It' s sad to see us livin like that till pine' s laid up | |
| Not straight up about death or missteps | |
| No regrets, just weed, sex, worldly patterns | |
| I miss Vatos and Bless, i miss my sister | |
| The other day my nigga was stabbed to death | |
| I laughed with step bout holy scripture | |
| Holdin blunts bigger than his casket, growed amongst grass unkept | |
| Still smokin, bet he' s still blowin | |
| Singin with sam cooke bout a change comin as we keep pourin | |
| Liquor out for those that passed | |
| It' s killin our livers because we dyin so fast | |
| Low on cash, who ain' t? ain' t no jobs | |
| Either you slang and make music or you detail cars | |
| Ya cut hair, ya sell clothes or you live on charge | |
| I barely got enough bread to give a cell phone bars | |
| Fuck puttin bars on paper, there' s bars in face of | |
| Half my niggas, spark the garcia vegas and ride country | |
| I' ll be damned if they stealin my pride from me | |
| Fuck the world, i ain' t destined to die hungry | |
| hook | |
| The lies, the pain, the truth, the hurt | |
| The music, the soul, it' s all in the dirt | |
| bridge | |
| Lay back and just ride | |
| Just ride | |
| Verse 2 Natti | |
| Enter my zone, blunts stuffed enough for self | |
| Bravin this world, puttin up smoke for help | |
| Peace pipe under the street lights type of wealth | |
| Greenery coats the scenery, my whip turn left | |
| Right away from them rollers posted up at the corner | |
| Schemin to meet they quota off of niggas with soda | |
| They love to get em together like lime and corona | |
| Twisted, like my niggas still reppin they hood | |
| Don' t own a brick up in that bitch but swingin they wood | |
| Goin to bat for that? shit, i wish i would | |
| In the thick of it, only with my kin i stood | |
| Make sense of it with dollars only if i could | |
| To trade children and a beautiful wife for a crack pipe | |
| Or beaten in the system, just missin the daylight | |
| Or missin in the system of hustlin all night | |
| Shit must have been a' ight at some point in our sight | |
| Till in a fashion we rationed off a portion of life | |
| Coastin into a future that we strive to make bright, come on | |
| Coastin into a future that we strive to make bright, let' s go |
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