Pages of My Life Songtext
von Kool G Rap

But, I think you should know
Yeah, that′s right, suicide mission (feel me)
Just because the boy do or die livin'
Like he was born and Bed Stuy, 45 liftin′
Niggas, get this guy twisted
He slide clips in
This one for my Queens niggas that died
Pitchin'
I was objected to hood shit in mom's kitchen
Pops cocked a pump and watched fried
Chicken
I′m three years old standing there my eyes
Were drippin′
Swinging little fists on him, but only die hittin'
And the small rage I had only made him laugh
Years later moms would tell me to save my
Ass
Memory lane pain deep as a razor slash
Had a baby sister that die young her name
Was Robyn


She went to sleep when the grim reaper was
Cradle rockin′
Over my right shoulder here I got an angel
Watchin'
I put my heart on the paper with the table
Wobblin′
Moms (???) for the time you was in labor
Droppin'
It probably never occurred that you would
Raise a (???)
Far from the moves just a state of
Knockin′???
Suffer long enough it's time for something
Major poppin'
Yeah I′m make sure they get me right (right,
Dog)
Flip through the pages of my life
See the scars were some chose to stick the
Knife
On some real shit, these are the pages of my
Life
Born fighter I′m sticking to the script, precise
Can't play fair here, you got to fix the dice
Lost everything I love trying to grip it tight
Decided to write the real pages of my life
Mid-chapter, age eleven was a little bastard
I′m like kids my age, wanted to fizzle faster
With the older gang, joined the house robbery
Wasn't scared of Doberman and their property
(Nah, dog)
That′s why the real niggas still rock with me
Easy, while the paper is were I drop the weed
OE 800 we wanted, 99th of 1 of 6 we're
Straight gunners (wassup, yo)
Now the little nigga, but his heart was
Humongous
My older man, Frog in the schoolyard in
Summer
Later he blew the face of Jake, he doin′
Numbers
Most of you know how the Queens do the
Coppers
Rastas hit a top sheen with a chopper
At sixteen was on the scene and prosper
Was when a nigga moved back from (???)
Back to na (no doubt) to homebase
(Word up)
From a place that made me a little grown-er
But would never forget the PJs
It's twelve days, that Steve (???), shortee rock
LA, (???)
Mori Croc's Pelle
When we ring the top bell ay
(???) my back in the days, shortee and 12A
The best rapper from the hood that′s were
The belt stays
Yeah I′m make sure they get me right (right,
Dog)
Flip through the pages of my life
See the scars were some chose to stick the
Knife
On some real shit, these are the pages of my
Life
Born fighter I'm sticking to the script, precise
Can′t play fair here, you got to fix the dice