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mistah f.a.b. - with no eyes كلمات الأغنية

[verse 1: mistah f.a.b.]
i was raised by the winos, man, to sip a lot
had to throw the bundle when the five-oh hit the block
we all in the projects, we don’t care if you rich or not
started off hustlin’, sellin’ weed, tryna flip the pot
shootin’ dice games all night with a missing pot
mama didn’t know he was grinding because he hit his rocks
dope fiend rentals, used to park ’em in a different lot
turf gun, seven n-ggas had the four-fifth and glock
only thing we had in common in the projects, we was missin’ pop
hard to keep your head up, lil’ daddy, when you missin’ pac
three pointers or street corners, you better not miss the shot
and when you pull up wet, sittin’ on candy, man, you could get the bops
posted on the spot while the time just p-ss us
n-ggas only wanted whips, we was used to the slave masters
shoot first, never worry what came after
on the turf, f-ck the church, we don’t care ’bout that lame pastor

[chorus]
you can see the pain with no eyes
listen to your soul, it never lie-ie-ie
don’t know where you go when you die
we just pray that it’s a heaven in the sky-y-y
you can see the pain with no eyes
listen to your soul, it never lie-ie-ie
don’t know where you go when you die
we just pray that it’s a heaven in the sky-y-y

[verse 2: mistah f.a.b.]
i paint a story so vivid, your eyes see it clear
baby got k!lled in a drive-by, didn’t see a year
lil’ homie 22, got twenty years on the tier
screamed out, “f-ck the judge, i’m a thug, no tears”
my notebook paint pictures, michelangelo
used to push buggies at safeway for some canteloupe
used to pump gas for change, me and my friends was broke
used to cut school, f-ck cl-ss, we blowin’ antidote
ghetto days was rough, seem like daddy gave us up
you could make a million and still feel like this ain’t enough
growin’ up was dangerous, bruh, and you don’t want to hang with us
be careful smokin’ after blood, he blowin’ angel dust
i’m from the smaller side, it’s chips on every n-ggas’ shoulder
ice city bear polar, lil’ homie, he a soldier
ski-masked down, he ready to lash somethin’
211 went to 187, he blast cousin

[verse 3: mistah f.a.b.]
we was starvin’, ‘frigerator ain’t got sh-t in it
whole project building is full of section 8 tenants
i just want a scr-per on 22’s to scr-pe in it
roll and be legit as them phillys man, with grapes in it
sittin’ in the dark, we ain’t pay the bill from pg&e
when it get dark, my n-ggas hittin’ all them b&e’s
i have rap dreams, want my video on cmc
but i was sellin’ bomb in the hood, no tnt
we ain’t have tnt, the cable was off
my cousin cooked c0ke at granny’s house, on the table was soft
i’m sorry, man, we ain’t fortunate or able as y’all
you wasn’t thuggin’ on the block, then they labeled you soft
we ain’t have namebrand clothes, man, the label was off
we ain’t cut from the same cotton, they just abled the cough
i’m from a city rotten, young n-ggas plottin’ the plug
then keep your business low, ’cause everybody watchin’ you, thug

- mistah f a b

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