Streets Under Me
• Written by alamedarichstarski
alamedarichstarski's Notes
This is my song written to be rapped on the instrumental published on YouTube. First written in circa 2019-2020, this version is my third re-writing.
I put them ghetto streets under me
Police come, bodies go, niggaz don't see
Try learning a lesson everyday you live
Never ever ask a gangster "Who you wanna be?" (yeah)
Watch your back, 'cause the hood gonna steer you up
All your brothers gonna sell you over lean cup
Hood don't even care slightest about where you came from
All it sees is dead bodies and nobody knows
Big backs, they represent them big stacks
That them homies got from drugs and getting straps from mack
No slangs on blanks, papers got bloody over papers
That's been serpent's ammunitions, busy spending all them players
Opponents getting victory, that's the only time you cry
But no one cares about your losses, all homies gotta fly
Just yesterday they been killing over red and blue
Now everybody's wearing black at the funeral (huh)
The suckery's legendary, cops getting receipts
Of them snitches being agents of devil and worshipping elites
That could end all wars and shootings if they ever really wanted
But now, we all have to hear the exact voice "Enemy spotted"
In our heads, let it be gangs, politics and lifestyles
Win your breads, layin the planks, exotics and aisles
The latter two in dreams, that game documented in '05
The further fool with creams, was a Shao-Lin in his own mind
I put them ghetto streets under me
Police come, bodies go, niggaz don't see
Try learning a lesson everyday you live
Never ever ask a gangster "Who you wanna be?" (yeah)
Watch your back, 'cause the hood gonna steer you up
All your brothers gonna sell you over lean cup
Hood don't even care slightest about where you came from
All it sees is dead bodies and nobody knows
Caught some fools dead in a Crown Vic
Fought some cools' head, found a brown brick
While wearing jeans that Billie gave with all the relish
Before I heard a man named Eric just got perished
While trying to make a bunch of dollars from scratch in easy way
Saluting his pimp brothers while dreamin' Anne Hathaway
The winds of death are strong here, it skips no brother and sister
It even makes a real brother spraying clips on another
All these lines were found in a diary from fires
Belong to a newspeaker that he wrote before he retired
Not even scriptmen can handle that stuff going on
Yet this shit got soccer kids aspiring to be a Don
But it can't last, it shouldn't; nope, Midtown ain't safe either
You can't run fast, but you can stay an outsider
Unless you join to the posse that hunts the pest
One wrong move, now there are holes in your chest (damn)
I put them ghetto streets under me
Police come, bodies go, niggaz don't see
Try learning a lesson everyday you live
Never ever ask a gangster "Who you wanna be?" (yeah)
Watch your back, 'cause the hood gonna steer you up
All your brothers gonna sell you over lean cup
Hood don't even care slightest about where you came from
All it sees is dead bodies and nobody knows
I see people trying to shine up like a dollar on a collar
Missing shit from their own hands over Benz and a half voila
Yes, it's done to get some sources just to pick some awful hoes in
Just to abandon souls inside while you trying to come and go and
I clocked up myself to words of God and now I see
Every sunset takes me far away and bring close just a different me
Cats and dogs on fake news can barely berate me over something
'Cause my habit to care a fuck molded and poisoned my demons every morning
I gots the props of wisdom and spent no dollars to achieve
You got your props of kingdom and spent every cent to believe
I'm marching all to mate a snapper, multiplying to make a dollar
I'm to be the dopest rapper till I die by another trigger
You're dunking your own family over scripted letters of bank
And you're the one that feels to be forced to peel another cap
Buzzing on overdose, relapsing to make a revival
Hoods or suburbs, all streets feel like Bengal
I put them ghetto streets under me
Police come, bodies go, niggaz don't see
Try learning a lesson everyday you live
Never ever ask a gangster "Who you wanna be?" (yeah)
Watch your back, 'cause the hood gonna steer you up
All your brothers gonna sell you over lean cup
Hood don't even care slightest about where you came from
All it sees is dead bodies and nobody knows
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About the Artist
alamedarichstarski
Member since June 29 2022