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[ti:My Summer Vacation] |
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[ar:Ice Cube] |
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[al:Death Certificate] |
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[This is the final boarding call for flight 1259 |
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Departing from Los Angeles, final destination to St. Louis |
| [00:07.620]Thank you] |
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Damn G, the spot's gettin' hot |
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So how the fuck am I supposed to make a knot? |
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Police looking at niggaz through a microscope |
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In L.A. everybody and they momma sell dope |
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They trying to stop it |
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So what the fuck can I do to make a profit? |
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Catch a flight to St. Louis |
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That's cool, 'cause nobody knew us |
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We stepped off the plane |
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Four gang bangers, professional crack slangers |
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Rented a car at wholesale |
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Drove to the ghetto, and checked in a motel |
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Unpacked and I grab the three eighty |
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'Cause where we stayin', niggaz look shady |
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But they can't fade South Central |
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'Cause bustin' a cap is fundamental |
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Checkin' out every block close |
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Seein' which one will clock the most |
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Yeah this is the one no doubt |
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Bust a U Bone, and let's clear these niggaz out |
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Ay ay man, what's up nigga? |
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Yo, well this Lench Mob nigga |
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Now clearin' em out meant casualties |
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Still had the L.A. mentality |
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Bust a cap, and out of there in a hurry |
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Wouldn't you know, a drive by in Missouri |
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Them fools got popped |
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Took their corner next day, set up shop |
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And it's better than slangin' in the valley |
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Triple the profit makin' more than I did in Cali |
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Breakin' off rocks like Barney Rubble |
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'Cause them mark-ass niggaz don't want trouble |
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And we ain't on edge when we do work |
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Police don't recognize the khakis and the sweatshirts |
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Getting bitches and they can't stand a |
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Nineteen-ninety-one Tony Montana |
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Now the shits like a war of gang violence |
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Where it was never seen before |
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Punks whirl when the gat bust |
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Four Jheri Curl niggaz kickin' up dust |
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And some of them are even lookin' up to us |
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Wearing our colors and talkin' that gang fuss |
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Giving up much love |
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Dyin' for a street, that they ain't even heard of |
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But other motherfuckers want to stand strong |
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So you know the phrase, once again it's on |
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Top of the news tonight, gangs from South Central |
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Los Angeles which are known for their drive by shootings |
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Have migrated into East St. Louis leaving three dead |
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And two others injured, no arrests have been made |
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Police say this is a nationwide trend |
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With similar incidents occurring in Texas, Michigan, and Oklahoma |
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My homie got shot he's a goner black |
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St. Louis niggaz want they corner back |
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Shooting in snowy weather |
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It's illegal business, niggaz still can't stick together |
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Fuckin' police got the four-one-one |
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That L.A. ain't all, surf and sun |
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But we ain't thinkin', bout the boys |
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Feudin', like the Hatfield's and McCoys |
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Now the shits gettin' tricky |
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'Cause now they lookin' for the colors and the khakis |
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Damn, the spot's gettin' hot from the battle |
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About to pack up and start slangin' in Seattle |
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But the NARCs, raid about six in the morning |
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Try to catch a nigga while he's yawnin' |
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Put his Glock to my chest as I paused |
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Went to jail in my motherfuckin' drawers |
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Tryin' to give me, fifty seven years |
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Face will be full of those tattooed tears |
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It's the same old story and the same old nigga stuck |
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And the public defender ain't givin' a fuck |
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The fool must be sparkin' |
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Talkin' about a double life plea bargain |
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You got to deal with the Crips and Bloods by hand G |
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Plus the Black Guerrilla family |
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And the white pride don't like North side |
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And it's a riot if any more niggaz die |
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No parole or probation |
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Now this is a young man's summer vacation |
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No chance for rehabilitation |
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'Cause look at the motherfuckin' years that I'm facin' |
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I'ma end it like this 'cause you know what's up |
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My life is fucked |