Bad/Good Songtext
von Diamond D
Bad/Good Songtext
Yeah, yeah
Uhh, try to watch your neck
C′mon, growin up in the X
We used to play manhunt, and steal your bike
Fight off the older dudes who tried to steal your Nikes
Don't matter if you′re outnumbered, still you fight
Put a nigga in the yoke, let him feel your bite
Livin in the devil's reach, fuckin girls on the roof
and call it Pebble Beach (yeah) and even though
we were kids, we still knew right from wrong
That's the premise, for me to even write this song
And laugh about who ran
Stick-up kids waitin outside of Jew-man (yeah)
And we idolized the neighborhood block stars
At night, throwin rocks at the cop cars
Shoot a fair one, you might get lumped
But fuck a fair one, you might get jumped
Knuckle up, or you might get chumped
Or in a car seat you might get slumped {*BLAM BLAM*}
Listen
"Shit is real!" "Growin up in the hood"
"Done some things bad, done some things good"
Yeah, I used to, run the streets but always got good grades
Reminiscin on this shit, blowin on good haze
We used to dumb shit, growin up in the ′jects
Gettin head at Yankee Stadium, up in the decks
You couldn′t hop at one-sixty-first
And how we race each other, bettin who could push one-sixty first
It wasn't always like that
We was broke and my father always liked smack - what could you do?
So my moms did the best she could for dolo (yeah)
Workin in midtown for next to no dough
I know I put her through shit
So I′ma smile when I put her in the new six (yeah)
It's only right cause I know I used to be a mess
Did I deserve all the beatings or was it stress?
Cause I put a few kids up in the EMS
I laugh about it now, cruisin in the CMS
Yeah, it′s all funny when I think back
Sippin Private Stock, but now I don't drink that (nope)
Now I′m into mango juice and crushed grapes (yes)
We used to fiend for them clear Cold Crush tapes (yes)
And I went from hoppin trains and snatchin links
To ridin around with bombshells in matchin minks
This is not rhethorical innuendo (yeah)
At house parties throwin leathers out the window, smarten up
I can tell you a dummy (uh-huh)
You look soft, niggaz sell you a dummy
You come back and get wrapped like a mummy (a mummy)
So you should always keep a pound by your tummy
And I posess a +Dangerous Mind+ like Phifer
From listenin to the Gods in the cipher
Seen a few dudes get a universal
There's cameras in the 'jects, live no commercial
Listen
{*scratching: "growin up in the hood" to end*}
Uhh, try to watch your neck
C′mon, growin up in the X
We used to play manhunt, and steal your bike
Fight off the older dudes who tried to steal your Nikes
Don't matter if you′re outnumbered, still you fight
Put a nigga in the yoke, let him feel your bite
Livin in the devil's reach, fuckin girls on the roof
and call it Pebble Beach (yeah) and even though
we were kids, we still knew right from wrong
That's the premise, for me to even write this song
And laugh about who ran
Stick-up kids waitin outside of Jew-man (yeah)
And we idolized the neighborhood block stars
At night, throwin rocks at the cop cars
Shoot a fair one, you might get lumped
But fuck a fair one, you might get jumped
Knuckle up, or you might get chumped
Or in a car seat you might get slumped {*BLAM BLAM*}
Listen
"Shit is real!" "Growin up in the hood"
"Done some things bad, done some things good"
Yeah, I used to, run the streets but always got good grades
Reminiscin on this shit, blowin on good haze
We used to dumb shit, growin up in the ′jects
Gettin head at Yankee Stadium, up in the decks
You couldn′t hop at one-sixty-first
And how we race each other, bettin who could push one-sixty first
It wasn't always like that
We was broke and my father always liked smack - what could you do?
So my moms did the best she could for dolo (yeah)
Workin in midtown for next to no dough
I know I put her through shit
So I′ma smile when I put her in the new six (yeah)
It's only right cause I know I used to be a mess
Did I deserve all the beatings or was it stress?
Cause I put a few kids up in the EMS
I laugh about it now, cruisin in the CMS
Yeah, it′s all funny when I think back
Sippin Private Stock, but now I don't drink that (nope)
Now I′m into mango juice and crushed grapes (yes)
We used to fiend for them clear Cold Crush tapes (yes)
And I went from hoppin trains and snatchin links
To ridin around with bombshells in matchin minks
This is not rhethorical innuendo (yeah)
At house parties throwin leathers out the window, smarten up
I can tell you a dummy (uh-huh)
You look soft, niggaz sell you a dummy
You come back and get wrapped like a mummy (a mummy)
So you should always keep a pound by your tummy
And I posess a +Dangerous Mind+ like Phifer
From listenin to the Gods in the cipher
Seen a few dudes get a universal
There's cameras in the 'jects, live no commercial
Listen
{*scratching: "growin up in the hood" to end*}
Writer(s): Joseph Kirkland, Anthony Patterson Lyrics powered by www.musixmatch.com