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goldenchild (backwoodz studioz) - 4 what (remix) lyrics
goldenchild ft. akir – “4 what (remix)”
[emcee(s): akir]
[producer(s): goldenchild]
[additional vocals: goldenchild]
[verse 1: akir]
n-ggas get yoked, yo. they revoke your right to vote
my purgatory quotes written for the righteous folks
i know it ain’t a joke when the fam can’t be broke
this type of mood invokes moves that are cutthroat
so foes battle over diamond and robes to spark
fights off of dumb sh-t like women and clothes. then it’s
pictures of toes hanging out of a sheet, tags on their
feet, hanging out on the street just to handle their beef
police ride by, hoping for signs to have you hogtied
beat your behind until your back is red and rawhide
dump you by the sh0r-line ‘cause filling forms’ll take
more time. the only thing on your mind is: back on the grind
racing time, you refuse to get scared. baby
moms a crackhead, share addiction with her kids. little
girls promised the world but only left with the hiv. father
figure can’t deliver ‘cause he doing a bid, and our
prisons are overcrowded—f-ck the crime that you did ‘cause we’re
imprisoned by the system by the curse that we live. something’s
got to give. a loose sieve, money-losing
confusing, drugs or boozing, waiting for revolution
striving for retribution just might get you executed
that’s when they throw the rules in to track all improvements
so who win when you can’t find a solution and your
movement disillusioned, so we’re locked in inst-tutions
[hook: akir]
i’m on the
corner, trying to get cash (get locked up for what?)
at the club, trying to get some -ss (get locked up for what?), driving
with some dead tags (get locked up for what?), lighting
up this dime bag (get locked up for what?), on the
corner, trying to get some cash (get locked up for what?)
at the club, trying to get some -ss (get locked up for what?), driving
with some dead tags (get locked up for what?), sparking
up this dime bag (get locked up for what?)
[verse 2: akir]
yo, a new
lease on his life, ali out of the beast, back to
his seed and his wife, free to roam in the streets. he’s
at home on a lease, eating honeycombs. suckers on the
phone with police, waiting ‘til honey’s home, acting like
something’s wrong, singing, “call tyrone,” knew that a tool
got that n-gga blown. my, his son has grown. been back
since thursday, about to be his son’s birthday
four years, daddy been here. daddy, beware. hard
for them to bond, he don’t like the stuff he be on, playing
with his mother lipsticks while she puts the jeans on. al
green song plays in the background. daddy’s ‘bout to lay the
smack down. she screams loud, “you see how going to
jail’ll make a n-gga act foul?” and, meanwhile, he see the
child crying, holding him close, saying he a lion
when times are trying, keep it tough like you’re made of iron
know that he relying on dad’s present complete with tying
i can’t explain how daddy’s trying. he looks him in the
eye and starts wilding ‘cause his best friend’s smelling the
foulness in his gut like a f-cking julep punch
the kid’s not his. get locked up for what?
[interlude: goldenchild]
yo, you look somebody i know. ayyo, yo, this is my seed right here? nah, yo. yo, nah, yo, look at his hair, yo. that’s not my hair right there, yo. that’s not even my smile, yo. i ain’t even got that look, yo, what that…
[hook: akir]
yo, i’m on the
corner, trying to get cash (get locked up for what?)
at the club, trying to get some -ss (get locked up for what?), driving
with some dead tags (get locked up for what?), lighting
up this dime bag (get locked up for what?). yo, i’m on the
corner, trying to get cash (get locked up for what?)
at the club, trying to get some -ss (get locked up for what?), driving
with some dead tags (get locked up for what?), sparking
up this dime bag (get locked up for what?)
[outro: akir and goldenchild]
locked up for what? locked up for what?
locked up for what? locked up for what?
locked up for what? locked up for what?
locked up for what? locked up for what?
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