Growth and Development Songtext
von Cappadonna

Yeah, yeah, summertime, New York City, stand up
Staten Island, stand up, whoo, yeah, it's a beautiful thing
Gotta bring the colors out now, I got the Nikes
The new things, two bangers, shit is banging song
Ah, yo, yo, yo

I'm in the hood once again, and I'm loving the vibe
All my veteran muthafuckas, we be keeping it live
Even down on G-Street, we be sick with the highs
You niggas is growing up now, they slick with the five
This kid got shot yesterday, Tamik died
Yo, my projects is warm, but it's cold on the outside
I'm still in the building, I live like I'm homeless
Though I love my children, so we reunite once again
I'm a lifeless feeling, yo, love for my fans, bring spiritual healing
With the wisdom, to manifest the best, I feel blessed
Living in the place where I call my rest
Piss in the elevator, shit on the steps, help you appreciate your last breath
What's up next? Call me collect
Yo, Staten Island, Wu-Tang Forever and we paid our debt


As the night shine, and the people slept
I came back in the game, I paid my respect
Growth and development, bought me a check, yo, my mind is set
As I sat by the window, and I find my texts
Yo, my cab popped off, I got more assets
And I love my seeds more than I cash my checks
God save me... whoo... hook up with Don'

Dog, I'm from the same damn place where the Wu was built
Where 2 Cent, Rakio and Boo Boo was killed
Same hood where them crooked ass cops killed Kase
And the judge don't do shit but smile in your face
For the world, why should I, the only way I'mma get drafted
Is by them baskets, playing ball til I die
Temperature's, I rapped though, never had a jumpshot
Fourteen years old, pro basing for one glock
Focus on the fortune and the fame, the glamour and the glitter
Here now, I ain't joking with you lames
The money was the first love in my life
Fell in love with law, but look at Todd G like my wife
Been a long time, I'm getting it right
In a better position, an opportunity to better my life
Freestyle, better off when I write
I'm a lyricist, you one hitter quitter
Like Whitney and Mike, the rebirth, now we getting it right
Hue Hefna, Cappadonna, Q-Dini flow
Spitting it right, yeah


Why them blind eyes think they can see, what's really happening?
Build with the O.G.'s, Dini, Donna captain
Y.G., Louie the God, swift and changable
Dance with the wolves, but yet, we still remainable
I rep peace, don't eat red meat, like beast
When the beef's all over, still the truth be speak
Put away the heat, teach on peace, move by feet
Walk across the hot desert, your style is weak
Number 7, old two step, that's what it do
It's the hood classic, like a barbeque
Misunderstood too, like the God son do
Saying whose who, stay focused, but do you
Even though I move different, I respect the Wu

Yeah, for my peoples in the struggle (what it do, yeah)
East to west, worldwide (come on, Fat Albert, the slick hat)
Yeah, we love it (hold on to my bracelet)

I gotta find a way like grandpops with six kids
Through the jungle, like them old heads, doing life bids
Cuz life is, both destiny and karma

I keep beefing with my baby momma
And foul jakes to, giving me drama
All my life, yo, it's nothing but problems

So I gotta find a way to solve 'em
Remove the stress from my brain
Cuz there's gotta be a better way
To maintain the hit on the block, pushing cocaine

Cracks and all that, I gotta find a way to fall back
My ribs is touching til my record label call back

So I work and focus hard and try to stay on track
With a bullshit security job and CDs in my backpack

Bags of dope up in my ass crack, earth is in the backroom
Broke vacuum, I smoke my moon
It's the Better Life Movement, coming soon, uh
Return of the Pillage

I love my babies, I love my ladies
What love is this, for money
Streets shot, police on blocks
Keep hot, I love money

Shit on my new kicks, dirt on my Yankee fitted
We in the cock pitted, it's broke windows, on the whip, man, the cops did it
Gotta find a way or else the block's gon' get it

The weapons on my coat smelling like weed smoke
Sippin' like Bacardi Gold like the fork in the road
Noodles in the pot on the stove, been walking these feet
With years, look at my wounds
In the gutter, still paying my dues

Return of the Pillage
Garbage cans, squeezing the box
Raccoons be at the door, they live with a fox
Incense be burning hard, for the smell of the socks
We on the rooftops, looking for cops
Half a gallon of milk and a box of Pops
What up, ock?

Ya'll don't see what I see
Sometimes you misunderstood me
The dramatic cross street blues
Let a lot, see my dues

Ain't no characteristics in this shit (baseball hat, baseball hat)
Straight bongo, my doola, it's the foundation