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don cook (rapper) - lil jessica كلمات الأغنية

[don cook / sc-m jones]
go on little jessica
robbed the record store all from the register
n0body mess with her, known for her repiotire
sh-tty little pipsqueak
–
known for cracking locks
skating, smoking weed with the hooligans at the park after dark, d-mn the cops
never f-cked with these n-ggas
she left a path of broken hearts
boys would try to cuff but her love was vocal arts
–
too torn apart
breaking in houses, had to for school tomorrow
her sorrow shows in the poems that she write
in spite of all of the trouble, it’s something she’d grow to like
back home it’s a different story, sh-t thrown, spit on, in the wrong every single morning
she start to think that her problem is something deeper
–
more drama with mama would harm her
her back would be blistering
hide the bruises, head out with her crew like f-ck the victim sh-t
so act up and act tough to show no weakness
she’d beat a b-tch up in the open
and kept her poems a secret
the gully, the neighborhood bully
even got the local nerd to do her homework for her
skinny n-gga named kenny, the victim of many wedgies
she said, “give me an a or get bloodied
don’t you ever tempt me”
she met him one day, pulling out her math book
she let a poem hit the floor and kenny got a fast look
jessica blushed, grabbed him by the collar fast, shook
“you ever tell a soul, i swear to god, you’ll get your -ss whooped”
–
and since the week of last
little kenny thought jessica was a thing of past
she kept thinking ‘bout the f-ck up at the school
and for her not to suffer all the stuff she had to do
she spotted ken up at the chevron station
filling up his ‘94 with his headphones banging
her gut told her just go to the house
shawty pictured her mother and she was frozen in doubt
and just then she heard the crack of a gun
–
and a voice, “give up your funds”
she looking out her window p-ssed, the f-ck is this?
a sorry little pistol and the person who grips
ski-masked-up, stick up kid looking for fast buck
he said, “give me the keys and the whip, don’t get tagged up”
jessica said, “i know your little peanut head
boy, demarcus, you think you sl1ck as the feds
i recognize them chapped lips
that toucan sam nose
still salty i ain’t give up the p-ssy to you, you mad b-tch”
demarcus smashed the window, opened the door
said, “i’ll teach you how to keep that d-mn mouth shut you f-ckin’ wh0r-”
jessica grabbed the gun
“i’m not the right one
you not taking my car or my p-ssy before my life hun”
–
turned the gun on him and shot
the bullet whizzed past
he punched her on the spot
and her head had hit the dash
put her -ss into the p-ssenger seat
and hopping into the driver
he knew he hadn’t been seen, but see
that ‘94 from before was just a few cars back
and each turn they was taking
the same, he’d do all that
any price, kenny knew he had to pay
even losing his life, jessy knew he had to save
so pay – close attention to the next few lines
it’s the sh-t that show you fear’s just a bed full of lies
demarcus pulled into the drive of his mom’s
kenny hit the gas zooming onto his lawn
–
and what had happened in the night
the hardest sh-t that jessica had seen in her life
kenny p-ssionately floored
pinning down demarcus’ door and jumped up out his little honda accord
he made his way around to jessica’s side
-ssessed the damage
she drowsy but awake, cool
he told her vanish
meanwhile, demarcus is shimmying through the window
cut up with broken gl-ss, ready to whip some -ss
kenny wasn’t quite the type to pick a fight
on that particular night
she was the queen to his knight
he pulled his dukes up
hoped he was concealing the fear
demarcus cracked his knuckles knew his vengeance was near
–
and that’s when the guns got drawn
and the cops rushed in
they was stunned that dawn
they had shot one dead
baby, shot, young, dead

- don cook rapper

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