|
Hey I'd like to tell you a little story |
|
About my man named dee |
|
Yo, even from when he was little |
|
He was like kinda on a tough tip |
|
Doin all that stuff |
|
But, i'ma tell you the way.... it should really go like.... the way he would say it now check this out |
|
When I was young, he always dreamed of bein rich |
|
But compared to then, that'd been a big switch |
|
Drivin big cars, wearin rings and ropes |
|
But man without a plan all he had was hopes |
|
So he sat down, and thought, what he wanted to be |
|
But it seems, no occupation had appeal to dee |
|
He didn't wanna be a doctor, he don't like school |
|
It wasn't that he was dumb, he just thought he was too cool |
|
Cause all the moneymakers and the big-time crooks |
|
He never ever seen none of them carryin books |
|
He used to be on the block, do whatever they pleased |
|
Never had a nine to five, but still clocked g's |
|
Harold reuben, freewood ave would make a man of them too |
|
And he thought, yeah that's the life, he wanna do like they do |
|
So he start to flip and cut class with the big boys |
|
Take other kids toys, cause he didn't dig noid |
|
He'd rather run the block and watch the hustlers play |
|
And he'll say, he wanna be just like that one day |
|
He used to run in the stores, steal cookies and candy bars |
|
Watchin the pimps roll by in they fancy cars |
|
But never did the thought even pass |
|
At the time, he 'posed to have his behind in class |
|
So when report cards came, all he received was a f jack |
|
And he got his neck smacked, for cold gettin left back |
|
But yet and still, he didn't care |
|
Cause to him, school's for the birds so he didn't belong there |
|
When he was only eight he hung out with the pros |
|
And he went, from stealin candy, to boostin clothes |
|
He used to dip out the class, go straight to the mall |
|
And he'll take, anything from anybody at all |
|
His neighbors used to ask his mother "brown what's wrong witcha child? |
|
He done robbed my damn house again, yo that kid is buck wild.." |
|
Yo, I don't know whassup, but he be buggin word up |
|
Yo that yo.. |
|
I'm just sayin like this |
|
I don't whassup, but |
|
I think you will understand a little bit more of the situation |
|
I'ma say like he would say it, on this second part |
|
So just check this out aight? |
|
Just kick it one two three, go head, go head man, go head |
|
He was a crook -- at the age of nine |
|
Do whatever it took -- he'll rob you blind |
|
Snatchin pocketbooks, robbin blind ol men |
|
Way back when.. when he was only ten |
|
Then when he was in 5th grade, he carried a switchblade |
|
Tried to stay rich to keep him and his bitch paid |
|
And if he ever had to travel somewhere far |
|
Take a bus? pssh - he'd go steal him a car! |
|
He'd always choose to live his life the wild way |
|
Tag? ! russian roulette is what he'll play |
|
His moms and pops told him when he first reached junior high |
|
The way you live determine just how soon you die |
|
And he didn't care because to him it was fun |
|
And he was only thirteen when he got his first gun |
|
He robbed stores and did stick-ups frequently |
|
Gave a new name to juvenile delinquency |
|
And yeah you know that, he, was on the go |
|
Seven days of the week, he kept his pockets full of dough |
|
But he was headed for a dead end fast |
|
Cold riskin his ass for petty cash that didn't last |
|
Went back and forth to jail six times |
|
For stolen cars and stick-up and various crimes |
|
So when he sit in his cell, he reminisce as a child |
|
It don't pay to do crime today, so don't be buck wild.. |
|
Ay that that that's a little bit of a lesson |
|
For all the kids out there you know now |
|
Yeah yeah yeah you know what |
|
I'm sayinAnd this is comin from |
|
The grand high exalted mystic ruler |
|
Ain't no one cooler |
|
In 7th grade |
|
I had a teacher named mr. dulah |
|
Who used to wear his pants up to his chest |
|
And I want you to just listen |
|
Cause.. this is no joke, so don't be buck wild.. |
