Killah Priest - Where I Come From (Remix) lyrics

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Where I come from (Where I come from)

Only the streets know (Only the streets know)

We live and die, stand by the cause

You gotta make it on ya own

Willy get the bakin', I'm Troy Aikman, it's Ballerstatus

Whether legal or ductapin', I gotta have it

Willy stranglin' beats, your career is hangin'

See it's danglin' feet, I'm disturpin' the peace

Got the urge of money in my sleeves

Hood dreamin', I'm schemin', gotta eat

Willy bout to crack blow, not smokin', it's dat flow

Big Lou, Probz and State Quo

Get low, get down or sit down

Any beat that I'm on, I zone, I Chris Brown

Any city I'm in, I throne, you kids ground

Some niggas ball, some lil niggas Bow Wow

Some niggas spar, some other niggas pal-pal

I do it the wild ways; you do it for Childs Play

Chunky ass niggas, so-unlucky ass niggas

Your hoes wanna fuck me ass niggas

I'm from the slums where niggas squeeze guns

Police often come, homicide, mama's traumatized

Guns aimed at the skies

Kool G armor with the llama on the thigh

Bang shots near train stops

Cocaine's chop for profit

Then came the Prophet in white garment

But we can't see him really because of the projects

It's nonsense, police charge us with revolvers

Fiends noddin' on the apartment's right across the street

The police departments

They rush us, we squeeze at the sergeants

Brooklyn bullpens, no cushions, blood gushing

Thug's lookin', drug pushin'

Niggas who spilled crack while givin' you dap

Niggas pointed to the floor revealin' their gats

Dog, cat and a rat, the morgue casket, funeral's packed

The usual, black suits, veil, fall from their hats

You can be the one in the delivery room

Or the one in the visitin' room, under the mystique moon

I am the reciter, sent from God to inspire

The writer of writers, stack ki's till the fire

My desire to acquire a position much higher

Still speak the truth tho I'm surrounded by liars

Keep it movin', lames shootin' at my tires

But my heads in the clouds, I'm flyer

Dead fish is my attire, King himself I'm sire

Hoes admire, eh, they enquire

Supplier and buyer, hip-hop's Richard Pryor

I'm no joke, folks sleepin' on Stat, they got the itis

Write so much you think I have arthritis

My voice is a quiet riots

Since the truth is transparent can't do nuttin' to hide it

Rep for my foes when I open my eyelids

And when revolution come I be standin' beside 'em

I'm from a G state, where the G's are great

You can find me in the Brickz with the shoes and lace

Cause I be trip on you niggas but I don't need the case

One .9, one deuce, watch you fools get ate

Mr. Brickz, Mr. Doitall, I'm all over the place

I'm in the back of the Jeep ride with a cup of grape

I know a couple gon' hate till I unleashed the eights

I'm from where a deadman walk, pick ya funeral place

I know the headman talk, but he a lil too late

Bitch, Mr. Brickz in here, make you fall to ya face

I'm a God and stay great, like it's cognac straight

And I still don't trust a bank; I keep the save in a safe

If you against where I'm from, that ain't the safest place

We got them avenues and blocks, have you jumpin' the gates

Have you testin' ya faith, have you yellin' "WAIT! "

Jersey I rep it, but you can tell it on my face

I'm from the home of the 'DC Sniper'

8 Miles without Mekhi Phifer

Surrounded by criminals and lifers

That'll take the life away like diphers

I'm from Camden, the streets of the Bone Collector

That'll dug up ya ancestors

Kids stick plastic locks thru school metal-detectors

For protection cause the teacher is a child molester

The best investor was the Mayor of the City

But the goons in his committee was buffoons

They got 'em lookin' all pretty, but fuck 'em

I know cats that wanna slump 'em and trunk 'em and dump 'em

Cause the Mayor snitched on niggas that use to trust 'em

And in my ghetto killers take shots but it ain't on metal

Correctional armour metal, the shots from the beretta

Read another article, they cut a man into particles

For tryna play the game like a carnival

Till we got out the pocket without callin' an audible

Now his body is the size of a portable

Television, this shit is horrible

Hey! You gotta make it on ya own out here

So if I'm RIP before I slip, I got the chrome out here

Ain't no second guessin' a sucka for a killin' in no time

And I guarantee you the walk is not a riddle of rhyme

I'm from the home of David Tyree, we catchin' that rock

But then the sins on time, I ain't stressin' that block

I'm gon', prrrr... faster then Mickey and Lisa

Barber pitchin' ya starvin' tryna stick to these streets

I'm Harley, eva seen out there

Unless you catch me off my Outlawz shit but then I'm green out there

And even tho I got my team out there

I'm still on my own Grand Hustle ground like J.G. out there

Yeah... when it's peace I'm a wear my gun

And that's word to Killa Kadafi know where I'm from

When they see me they know where I come from

Nigga cause where I'm from? Homie the streets know I wear my gun

We so backwards, that we measure the realness of a city by how many get killed in

I was a born in a building where I saw the most wonderful children

Growin' up with drugs and drama instilled in and I'm still here

Braggin' callin' Brooklyn crazy is my home

Where you can get shot for an iPhone

Reachin' 25 is a milestone

We love to say we come from a wild zone

The flatline sound like a dialtone

It's sad but it's true

Ol' Dirty Bastard comepared it to a Zoo

We already knew if you escaped crack and heroin the folks wanna mug you

You didn't sell to feed ya self, then the hood ain't gon' love you

You made it out and went to college all you do is gon' say "Fuck you"

You get some chips and push ya whip or two they prolly gon' slug you

You can't win, I don't step with no sex

But I'm pressed to protect where I rest in my head low

Geah, ayo welcome to the East Coast where you keep ya heat close

If you wonder bout there bread they might squeeze toast

G's quote a street oath to live by and keep close

Streets leaked with needles and kilos

Of cheap dope, we need hope, but see yo

There's somethin' about being broke

That makes you appreciate the little things that be so

Minimized our bitter lives, makes us epitomize

Bigger rides and cribs with five floors full of shit we buy

Look at my life, look thru my glasses

Look at my past - it's littered with bad shit

But shit whose isn't? Stress infects the city

If you bare your arms you'll see Essex is grizzly

Me, Stat, Lou, Sha, Priest and Willy

Doitall, Mr. PRobz made an anthem like a milli

Chant if you feel me, cause Jersey is in the building

This is where the fuck I'm from, now bring in the singing