Slow Pain - Pick Your Game Up lyrics

rate me

Here's a story (What's going on)

Of an O.G.

Speaking on my hood (Oh)

For the very first time (What's going on)

Now, I never intended on recording this song

That is

Until the day (What's going on)

When a good homie of mine happened to thumb through my notebook

He said, "Slow

You gotta do somethin' with these lyrics (Tell me what's going on)

People wanna hear about it, homie"

I see the sun don't shine in the hood anymore

Death fill the streets, police chalk on the floor

Uno eighty-seven's headline on that news

Cops puttin' free dope

On the street for some clues (Fuckin' punks)

Puppet caught a case, fifteen in the pen

Flacos rollin' hard in the '06 pen

Sleepy got weak, God, he killed his old lady

Shotgirl, seventeen

Goin' on a third eighty

Bouncers callin' shots with the needle in his vein

Lil' Lazy got a jacket, put a hole in his brain

Trigger got five from his part time job

Robbed the corner liquor store and got shot for a score

Now he's in a wheelchair

Handcuffed to the floor

Hatin' life

And beating on his wife

The hood's all fucked up, time's gettin' dirty

So I sleep with my dawg (You know)

A chrome thirty thirty

The hood's all fucked up

Pick your game up

Blame yourself

Homie, clean your name up

The hood's all fucked up

Pick your game up

Blame yourself

Homie, clean your name up

Education for my people, I wanna clean up the streets (Streets)

Rollin' dice with my life

To be an O.G.

Taking chances with my music

Crossin' the line

Speakin' my mind

'Bout to fuck in county line

Haters speakin' on mine

Like they livin' in my brain (Fuckin' punks)

It's funny how so many be

Hating Slow Pain

Mossy from the gang, still tellin' on the homies

Settin' up the homies

Sleepin' with the homies (Biotch)

He a doin' the homies dirty, gettin' high but she sick

H.I.V.

Scandalous ass chick

Slam dunkin' like LaBrawn James (Whoo)

Pushin' darker veins

Got the little homies throwin' trains (Ha ha ha)

Steal his shit from the malls

To pay the dope man

Stolen TVs and DVDs

To

What a waste of a precious life

How could she ever be a wife

When a old man's locked up, doin' life

What's going on

Tell me what's going on

Money don't make you a motherfucking man

Your name don't make you a real Mexican (Chale)

The hood don't make you a killer or a soldier

The dice in your hand don't make you a roller

Joker, he a joke like a Ben hundred spokes (Fuckin' punk)

Sleeping with his crying baby momma on the low

Bugsy doin' time, not knowin' what's goin' on (What's goin' on, homie?)

But when he paroled, Joker's ass is gone

Homies killin' homies on some straight bullshit (Bullshit)

Another homie gone

Another sad song

Somethin' wrong in the hood

I could feel it in the air

In you, punk ass bitch

If your ass don't care

Little kids all freaked out

Losing they mind, I know

Everyone sees it, homie, stop actin' blind (Stop that shit)

I been speakin' my mind

Kill me with that A.K.

The hood's all fucked up, that's all I gotta say (What)

The hood's all fucked up