[KLC]
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It was a long, long time ago
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In the basement with no money but had talent to show
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But the shit wasn't right because the money was tight
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But a mill and some street skills got me feelin tonight, right x2
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[Mr. Serv On]
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It all started in 92', just tight sounds there wasn't no beats by the pound
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Just a little light skinned nigga with light eyes and blacks
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I'm trippin, this nigga got a couple of g's worth of equipment and no
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muthafuckin strap This nigga gotta be somebody real
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Cause in south east and it cost ya dc
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Some nigga be tightin up his muthafuckin grill
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I'm seein shysty niggas run in and out
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Now I'm thinkin this must be a muthafuckin crack house
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This nigga say he like what I do, he see a little potential
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Now I'm like nigga what's up with you
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All we had between us was hundred bars and ruffles
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I know ya'll out there fuckin laughing bitch it was real
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All we had to do was hustle
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I told em nigga do the music these bad times can't hold us
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I did everything from credit cards to bad checks to bank tellers
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Then we started dressin like goodfellas
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Dressin in NBA teams uniforms everyday of the week
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This nigga still doing fire music
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and I'm pushin ounces of weed on the street
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But we still ridin dirty and this old lady Caddy nigga one head light
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Fuckin around the club, killing rumors, where niggas die every night
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But we ain't trippin, we ain't got shit to lose
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Cause if I kill a nigga fuck it, our shit gon sell
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I know we got on Serv-On we on the news
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Yeah that's what we talkin bout.
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All you gotta do is catch one of your bitch ass niggas slippin.
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When I blast at that bitch that they talk with.
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[KLC]
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Chorus x2
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[Mr. Serv On]
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So now I got my tape dubbed, we gotta do something
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This nigga KL got two daughters and he workin on a muthafuckin son
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Til we dead we ain't got no nigga to put g's up
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Sleepy wanna lend a hand but the people fuckin with him
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He got his hands tied up
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Shit, all we got between us nigga
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is enough money to get a kicken chicken plate
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Me and these muthafucka's with child support are always in my face
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I still wanna call Boogie and Tarret,
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but them niggas got problems of they own
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Nigga they kill they homies time to leave they pistols on em
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I'm from 6th and Berome, I ain't off the way
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But niggas like Booty, Bozo, Cujo, QB, Mo, Vito, and T-Roy
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They treat my like I'm they home boy
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Now this nigga O-boy may he rest in peace
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Talkin bout some jack the rapper shit
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Fuck it, we doing bad plus this shit free
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Now we three deep in the course, with a pack in the spare tire
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I hope these Alabama police don't stop us cuz we hot like fire
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I think about all the niggas we done left behind
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But fuck it nigga, I gotta go for mine
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I don't know what I'm gonna do, I gotta go for mine
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Nigga, MC Dart.
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That's like the tightest muthafucka ya'll never heard of nigga.
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Ya'll never heard of.
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[KLC]
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Chorus x2
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[Mr. Serv On]
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Now we at the Mariott Marquis with no passes
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Not for long, nigga I'm from New Orleans bitch we whoop asses
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I pussy ass label no name giving heard our demo
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Try to beat us with hoes and limos, fuck em I don't miss em
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Now we in the lobby watchin Death Row and Ruthless Records fightin
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Tearin shit up, and right in the middle like when I was young
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That nigga P ran up with C-Murder with pistols in hand
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Askin what's up nigga ya'll straight
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Shit I remember a little group, now they platinum
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I could keep a secret now I'm gon make my escape
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P said nigga let's eat at this breakfast place
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Nigga told me about No Limit and took my demo
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Gave us two hundreds dollars a peice and pay for the shit we ordered to eat
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Now we back home still struglin
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I got a pistol with two bullets
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One for me and one for the nigga that fuckin with me, I'm thuggin
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I done beat some niggas out for some paper
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KL got tax problems, don't trust me when we in the money caper
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Now P back home lookin for some niggas for some Down South Hustlers shit
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I'm lettin club rumors and I'm like dogg take me out this bitch
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He ask me if am I trippin on Chris, nigga fuck that bitch hit me bustin
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| But I can |
