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City of ******, I call it Oak |
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Can't be broke, selling coke |
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Fat ropes, shattered hopes |
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Fresh cars and all that ****** |
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Baseheads keep the trade alive |
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Nobody know about a 9 to 5 |
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Everybody's just trying to survive |
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You need a gun, can't use those knives |
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You got a bullet? Well just pull it |
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And if you trip, get pistol-whipped |
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By a psychomaniac sick in his head |
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Wanna be a gangster, now he's dead |
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His brother took over, ain't no sweat |
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Bought a new drop-top white Corvette |
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Now he's buying keys, making G's |
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And all the girls say "Won't you please |
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Take me" In the City of ****** |
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See I'm hard as hell, no ghetto tale |
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You play a gun, but the game is real |
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You want to stop my money, how? |
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You keep smoking, I'm selling out |
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It's called the City of ******, might be your town |
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Get a piece of the rock, turn your life around |
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So cool, don't even trip |
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You got the sack, get on the tip |
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A resident in the City of ****** |
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And every day I'm selling coke |
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I'm never broke, I don't smoke |
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I sold a rock and made you have a stroke |
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Pay cold cash you know, I won't need Bruno |
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I'll hit you with my gat and then I won't come back |
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Like ym peanut butter top with the candy paint |
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All the high school tenders drop down and faint |
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In the City of ****** |
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Life in a coke town, heard it before |
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Think it's all been said, but it's so much more |
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It's like midnight, slanging rock |
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Task force just hit the block |
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Time to make a move, the spot got hot |
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You chase a cop, homeboy why not? |
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She lit the match and light the crack |
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Ain't giving no ************ no kind of slack |
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Or if you're playing the game, you're thinking the same |
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Goddamn that rock ************ |
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I've seen a lot of my friends go off that pipe |
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And every night smoke coke that's white |
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So when you get up, man, there you go |
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You and that pipe just dogging the hoes |
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In the City of ******, and the story goes |
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Want to be like free, breaking millions of loaves |
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In the City of ******, where the color is gold |
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On your neck, and your fingers, and your brand new Rolls |
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Enough said, but my rap won't end |
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It's on a one way trip to San Quinten |
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Like you my friend, ain't nothing new |
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You want to grind that boat til it's way past two |
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You say it's not easy, that you're so hard |
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Sporting gold tone Z's, not credit cards |
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Got clout turn 'em out, you got ************ |
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You say you're not fake, but I'm telling you this is |
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The City of ******, might be your world |
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Get a beeper homeboy and just sell that girl |
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I'm from the town called "The City of ******" |
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It couldn't be saved by John the Pope |
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So go on, live your life of crime |
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The beat'll keep beating while I say my rhyme |
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In the City of ****** |
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Smoking ************, rolling 'em fat |
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You wonder where the boy learned to act like that |
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Hey was raised in the ghetto and felt the need |
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To roll a fat joint and smoke that ************ |
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But the tale goes on and years went by |
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Another drug came and the boy got high |
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Ever since that day, he just wasn't the same |
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Where I come from, we call it "rock ************" |
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Where you come from, you might call it "crack" |
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But wherever he went, you see he never came back |
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I tried to tell the mother******, but he don't know |
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I say to coke, "Pimp that ho" |
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I don't live in a mansion but I drive a Benz |
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Cut to the turf and collect my ends |
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Say "Look here freak, kick me down |
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I don't have time to talk right now" |
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Got to go to, my next hoe |
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And get kicked down, a little more |
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Left right left, down the street |
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Getting paid freak by freak |
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There you see me, there you don't |
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You wonder will I, or won't |
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Is it yes, is it no? |
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But does it really matter you freaky hoe? |
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In the City of ****** |
