[VERSE 1] I can't lie, I like to get high and figure-8 when I drive Blow doja rope in the sky for all my cuddies that died We can't do nothin but strive during the struggle You want a silver spoon in your mouth, you gotta hustle As I take another hit of the spliff that soldiers passin The only chance I get to feel peace, I gotta have some So see, I spark the holla a lot, it keeps me goin Baby boy 3 steps ahead of his death, and mama knowin So she's sayin, "Baby, change your ways" But I was raised in the days of Uzis and A.K.'s Where killers play their deadly game called the pistol-tag Just let me live, I ask But if you're caught in a cross, then I'ma off your ass Young nigga that's tryin to have the better things in life He went from crookin and rookin to jookin overnight Some try to say he ain't right, but who's to say that he's wrong That's why you're starvin, and the name of this song Is get some Get Right
[CHORUS: Levitti You, you need to get some get right Cause fools, they choose to front their whole life You need to get some get right Cause fools, they choose to front their whole life
[VERSE 2] I tried to tell my young partner to take a look at his life But he don't like how it's lookin, because his money ain't right And gettin high as a kite is his way to escape the ghetto heat In them streets where it ain't no peace He's stayin fast on his feet, cause the rollers be chainin And if they have you with that d, it ain't no use in explainin Cause they gon' slam you on your face, haul you off with a case And in the belly of the beast you're straight tucked away But he don't hear me though, he rather sling the dope And to that day illegal business got my folks smoked It got me feelin like it ain't no hope for black males If you're out there in the life it's either jail or it's hell See, jail is what they send us to And hell is what we're livin through So get some get right is what you better do
[Levitti] Better do [Mac Mall] Better do [x3]
[CHORUS]
[VERSE 3] Now back in 1983 we played as kids in the street Never thought in '96 I'd roll my strip totin heat And player, funkin with the feds was never fun to me But man, the rollers try to take the hood from under me Haters come with jealousy, but they ain't fadin me none Too busy mackin bout my mail and tryin to make 21 Some of my cuddies didn't live to see the big twump-ace And I be damned if I got out like a statistic today So I'ma get some get right, get my game tight Hustlin on the mic, now my name's in lights Me and my cuddies was broke, but not no mo', mayn They down with Cessed Out, so there's no more cocaine Tryin to show my folks there's way mo' To life than just bangin and hittin licks and sellin dope Playboy, it's almost 2000, peep the game's gettin colder And if somebody asks ya, tell em Mac Mall told ya
[CHORUS]
Compositores: Jamal Rocker Ester (Mac Mall), Mike Mosely ECAD: Obra #18857391