Wizard Of Oz Songtext
von SPM featuring Carolyn Rodriguez

Yeah. Yeah.

Now come follow me
Down Yellow Brick Road
To Wizard of Oz
Hillwood Hustla
Got what you need.


It were plain to see
Since the age of 3
One day dope fiends would be pagin′ me
I got crunk in the game
Niggas knew my name
Hillwood, the place I gained my fame.
16, in the '77 Seville
Smoke gray, gold trim, Big Daddy grill
Back in ′86, I was choppin' bricks
To think a damn Papermate got me rich
I got love for the hustlaz in every hood
Wit hate in your heart it'll never be good
I feel blessed but confess
I blow cess for my stress
It′s that Mex with an S on my chest.
Nonetheless, I wish well for the homies
With the OZ′s runnin' from the police
No peace, blow sweets on cold streets
Dope fiends go bring a nigga mo′ green.

Now come follow me
Down Yellow Brick Road
To Wizard of Oz
Hillwood Hustla
Got what you need.


My money triples, sippin' Ripple
Livin′ simple. Rollin' paper squares
Out a fat ass nickel
Tricks on my dick for the bricks I chop
Pigs in my mix when they hit my block
Used to catch a raid ′bout every 6 months
Just to check up to see if I'd slip once
Call it one time some rhyme 'bout this shit
I can slide in my sandals
But never will I slip.
Undercovers hit the set, Man ya′ll funny
Takin′ them crumbs & givin' marked money
Tryin′ to convict 'em, I ain′t fallin' victim
Fool I know your face & my boys I done hipped ′em
They want me bad so mad as they burned off
Fuckin' with them hoes, now my blunt done turned off
No other way, just another day on the spot
If you play then you pay, It don't ever stop.

Now come follow me
Down Yellow Brick Road
To Wizard of Oz
Hillwood Hustla
Got what you need.

I wrote this book ′bout the hopeless crook
Livin′ in the land where the coke is cooked
Where hoes get took & the joke is good
Where smokers hooked in a soldier's hood
That Lonely Wood, where his homies stood
Tryin′ to change myself if I only could
I'm just your Hillwood Hustla
Street rhyme rustler
Blowin′ mo' smoke than a broke down muffler.
But I′m takin' losses
It ain't easy workin′ jobs with no fuckin′ bosses
Sellin' dope is the hardest thing a man can do.
Risk your life & your freedom for a buck or 2.
Still I feel if you lose control, homey yousa hoe
Real G′s keep they life on cruise control
When the police kick door & raid my crib
I tell 'em Pigs are for slippers. That′s not what I did.

Now come follow me
Down Yellow Brick Road
To Wizard of Oz
Hillwood Hustla
Got what you need.