Time Passing Us By Lyrics
| Song | Time Passing Us By |
| Artist | Bizzy Bone |
| Album | The Gift |
| Download | Image LRC TXT |
| 作曲 : Bizzy Bone | |
| (chorus)x2 | |
| As time keep passin' us by in my community | |
| Wathcin' the children die | |
| Bitch made police, and the brutality | |
| Prozac and ritalin, that aint what we need | |
| And wonder why our children keep smokin' weed | |
| (bizzy) | |
| Take a look into the gun, look at what we've become | |
| Daddy don't love me, only come around the first of the month | |
| Me and mommy still in the slump | |
| Why don't he love us? | |
| I can't even blame him | |
| Cause ever since i came | |
| We been stuck in the same ghetto | |
| Now i'm carryin' heavy metal when times is tough | |
| I don't know about ya neighborhood, but baby, mines is rough | |
| Abandand buildings police searchin' all the children | |
| Ain't no peace in the streets, at least not where i'm livin' | |
| Kneeling to god cause satan never gave us a chance | |
| Evil never had no rythm, man, the devils can't dance | |
| Got three pairs of pants | |
| But i keep em all creased | |
| Whether chicken or ham, we gon' use the same grease | |
| Each second is a struggle, beg, borrow or hustle | |
| Yeah, scufflin' money just try to stay out of trouble | |
| Hell, rebel of rap music, put it on my mama! | |
| And if it's gonna be gunplay, rocket launchers, grenades, and aks! | |
| (chorus)x2 | |
| As time keep passin' us by in my community | |
| Wathcin' the children die | |
| Bitchmade police, and the brutality | |
| Prozac and ritalin, that aint what we need | |
| And wonder why our children keep smokin' weed | |
| (bizzy) | |
| Why is the broad on my back like that? | |
| Don't ask me, i'm for passion, i'm smashin' on niggas, come blast me! | |
| All my people tellin' me i should sing more | |
| Yes! | |
| Roll up a dub, smoke bud in the club | |
| Free flesh! | |
| Creepin' on a come up, i'm from cleveland, and columbus, ohio | |
| Don't hate myself for science, and the ?? | |
| Yet all these niggas gangbang | |
| Somebody should tell em the truth | |
| I'll sell em somethin' that'll get they heart to pumpin', | |
| And help the youth! | |
| Hangin' in the graveyard, everybody's playin' hard | |
| Satan's on a mission to get us | |
| I hope that nobody with us, and given us slave ways | |
| Ruthless got us on fifty dollars a day | |
| One hundred and ninety thousand i guess platinum don't pay | |
| Can i please get some mo' money? | |
| Somebody could buy my way cause shit the rent's due | |
| Glad i got ghetto credit | |
| Don't let the industry pimp you, pimp you, pimp you | |
| (chorus)x2 | |
| As time keep passin' us by in my community | |
| Wathcin' the children die | |
| Bitch made police, and the brutality | |
| Prozac and ritalin, that aint what we need | |
| And wonder why our children keep smokin' weed | |
| (bizzy) | |
| Babies born with aids, and with ???? they hording the vaccine | |
| Black helicopter rain on em, i'm gainin' on em | |
| Maintain the main thang on em, shame on em | |
| But another victim died of vain for em, slain | |
| Two hundred and fifty crashed in the plane | |
| And the only thing that survived was the black box | |
| They frame the black cops | |
| Slang crack rock | |
| Wannabe hot boyz, so he gon' make the block hot, block hot | |
| They wanna see me sasquash | |
| Pull out my glock, cocked, and pop pop! | |
| Go to jail don't nobody send you mail | |
| Hell, i'm ridin' til these wheels fall off | |
| Or they can take it to the chop shop | |
| Shut up, i'm shinnin' on you bustas! | |
| What!? | |
| Ready to hustle get your struggle on, no! | |
| When you wanna double up, you keep fuckin' up! | |
| Your mind's gone, time's gone, everybody's runnin' amuck | |
| They say that lesbians is sick | |
| But they just do wanna fuck | |
| (chorus)x4 | |
| As time keep passin' us by in my community | |
| Wathcin' the children die | |
| Bitch made police, and the brutality | |
| Prozac and ritalin, that aint what we need | |
| And wonder why our children keep smokin' weed |
| zuo qu : Bizzy Bone | |
| chorus x2 | |
| As time keep passin' us by in my community | |
| Wathcin' the children die | |
| Bitch made police, and the brutality | |
| Prozac and ritalin, that aint what we need | |
| And wonder why our children keep smokin' weed | |
| bizzy | |
| Take a look into the gun, look at what we' ve become | |
| Daddy don' t love me, only come around the first of the month | |
| Me and mommy still in the slump | |
| Why don' t he love us? | |
| I can' t even blame him | |
| Cause ever since i came | |
| We been stuck in the same ghetto | |
| Now i' m carryin' heavy metal when times is tough | |
| I don' t know about ya neighborhood, but baby, mines is rough | |
| Abandand buildings police searchin' all the children | |
| Ain' t no peace in the streets, at least not where i' m livin' | |
| Kneeling to god cause satan never gave us a chance | |
| Evil never had no rythm, man, the devils can' t dance | |
| Got three pairs of pants | |
| But i keep em all creased | |
| Whether chicken or ham, we gon' use the same grease | |
| Each second is a struggle, beg, borrow or hustle | |
| Yeah, scufflin' money just try to stay out of trouble | |
| Hell, rebel of rap music, put it on my mama! | |
| And if it' s gonna be gunplay, rocket launchers, grenades, and aks! | |
| chorus x2 | |
| As time keep passin' us by in my community | |
| Wathcin' the children die | |
| Bitchmade police, and the brutality | |
| Prozac and ritalin, that aint what we need | |
| And wonder why our children keep smokin' weed | |
| bizzy | |
| Why is the broad on my back like that? | |
| Don' t ask me, i' m for passion, i' m smashin' on niggas, come blast me! | |
| All my people tellin' me i should sing more | |
| Yes! | |
| Roll up a dub, smoke bud in the club | |
| Free flesh! | |
| Creepin' on a come up, i' m from cleveland, and columbus, ohio | |
| Don' t hate myself for science, and the ?? | |
| Yet all these niggas gangbang | |
| Somebody should tell em the truth | |
| I' ll sell em somethin' that' ll get they heart to pumpin', | |
| And help the youth! | |
| Hangin' in the graveyard, everybody' s playin' hard | |
| Satan' s on a mission to get us | |
| I hope that nobody with us, and given us slave ways | |
| Ruthless got us on fifty dollars a day | |
| One hundred and ninety thousand i guess platinum don' t pay | |
| Can i please get some mo' money? | |
| Somebody could buy my way cause shit the rent' s due | |
| Glad i got ghetto credit | |
| Don' t let the industry pimp you, pimp you, pimp you | |
| chorus x2 | |
| As time keep passin' us by in my community | |
| Wathcin' the children die | |
| Bitch made police, and the brutality | |
| Prozac and ritalin, that aint what we need | |
| And wonder why our children keep smokin' weed | |
| bizzy | |
| Babies born with aids, and with ???? they hording the vaccine | |
| Black helicopter rain on em, i' m gainin' on em | |
| Maintain the main thang on em, shame on em | |
| But another victim died of vain for em, slain | |
| Two hundred and fifty crashed in the plane | |
| And the only thing that survived was the black box | |
| They frame the black cops | |
| Slang crack rock | |
| Wannabe hot boyz, so he gon' make the block hot, block hot | |
| They wanna see me sasquash | |
| Pull out my glock, cocked, and pop pop! | |
| Go to jail don' t nobody send you mail | |
| Hell, i' m ridin' til these wheels fall off | |
| Or they can take it to the chop shop | |
| Shut up, i' m shinnin' on you bustas! | |
| What!? | |
| Ready to hustle get your struggle on, no! | |
| When you wanna double up, you keep fuckin' up! | |
| Your mind' s gone, time' s gone, everybody' s runnin' amuck | |
| They say that lesbians is sick | |
| But they just do wanna fuck | |
| chorus x4 | |
| As time keep passin' us by in my community | |
| Wathcin' the children die | |
| Bitch made police, and the brutality | |
| Prozac and ritalin, that aint what we need | |
| And wonder why our children keep smokin' weed |
| zuò qǔ : Bizzy Bone | |
| chorus x2 | |
| As time keep passin' us by in my community | |
| Wathcin' the children die | |
| Bitch made police, and the brutality | |
| Prozac and ritalin, that aint what we need | |
| And wonder why our children keep smokin' weed | |
| bizzy | |
| Take a look into the gun, look at what we' ve become | |
| Daddy don' t love me, only come around the first of the month | |
| Me and mommy still in the slump | |
| Why don' t he love us? | |
| I can' t even blame him | |
| Cause ever since i came | |
| We been stuck in the same ghetto | |
| Now i' m carryin' heavy metal when times is tough | |
| I don' t know about ya neighborhood, but baby, mines is rough | |
| Abandand buildings police searchin' all the children | |
| Ain' t no peace in the streets, at least not where i' m livin' | |
| Kneeling to god cause satan never gave us a chance | |
| Evil never had no rythm, man, the devils can' t dance | |
| Got three pairs of pants | |
| But i keep em all creased | |
| Whether chicken or ham, we gon' use the same grease | |
| Each second is a struggle, beg, borrow or hustle | |
| Yeah, scufflin' money just try to stay out of trouble | |
| Hell, rebel of rap music, put it on my mama! | |
| And if it' s gonna be gunplay, rocket launchers, grenades, and aks! | |
| chorus x2 | |
| As time keep passin' us by in my community | |
| Wathcin' the children die | |
| Bitchmade police, and the brutality | |
| Prozac and ritalin, that aint what we need | |
| And wonder why our children keep smokin' weed | |
| bizzy | |
| Why is the broad on my back like that? | |
| Don' t ask me, i' m for passion, i' m smashin' on niggas, come blast me! | |
| All my people tellin' me i should sing more | |
| Yes! | |
| Roll up a dub, smoke bud in the club | |
| Free flesh! | |
| Creepin' on a come up, i' m from cleveland, and columbus, ohio | |
| Don' t hate myself for science, and the ?? | |
| Yet all these niggas gangbang | |
| Somebody should tell em the truth | |
| I' ll sell em somethin' that' ll get they heart to pumpin', | |
| And help the youth! | |
| Hangin' in the graveyard, everybody' s playin' hard | |
| Satan' s on a mission to get us | |
| I hope that nobody with us, and given us slave ways | |
| Ruthless got us on fifty dollars a day | |
| One hundred and ninety thousand i guess platinum don' t pay | |
| Can i please get some mo' money? | |
| Somebody could buy my way cause shit the rent' s due | |
| Glad i got ghetto credit | |
| Don' t let the industry pimp you, pimp you, pimp you | |
| chorus x2 | |
| As time keep passin' us by in my community | |
| Wathcin' the children die | |
| Bitch made police, and the brutality | |
| Prozac and ritalin, that aint what we need | |
| And wonder why our children keep smokin' weed | |
| bizzy | |
| Babies born with aids, and with ???? they hording the vaccine | |
| Black helicopter rain on em, i' m gainin' on em | |
| Maintain the main thang on em, shame on em | |
| But another victim died of vain for em, slain | |
| Two hundred and fifty crashed in the plane | |
| And the only thing that survived was the black box | |
| They frame the black cops | |
| Slang crack rock | |
| Wannabe hot boyz, so he gon' make the block hot, block hot | |
| They wanna see me sasquash | |
| Pull out my glock, cocked, and pop pop! | |
| Go to jail don' t nobody send you mail | |
| Hell, i' m ridin' til these wheels fall off | |
| Or they can take it to the chop shop | |
| Shut up, i' m shinnin' on you bustas! | |
| What!? | |
| Ready to hustle get your struggle on, no! | |
| When you wanna double up, you keep fuckin' up! | |
| Your mind' s gone, time' s gone, everybody' s runnin' amuck | |
| They say that lesbians is sick | |
| But they just do wanna fuck | |
| chorus x4 | |
| As time keep passin' us by in my community | |
| Wathcin' the children die | |
| Bitch made police, and the brutality | |
| Prozac and ritalin, that aint what we need | |
| And wonder why our children keep smokin' weed |
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