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dreamin - slight lyrics

[sampled vocals]
ah, ah! i’m sittin’ in the crib dreamin’ about learjets and coupes
the way salt shoops and how they sell records like snoop – (oops!)
i’m interrupted by a doorbell, 3:52 – who the h-ll is this?
i gets up quick, c-cks my sh-t
stop the dogs from barkin’, then proceed to walk in
it’s a face that i seen before
my n-gg- sing, we used to sling on the 16th floor
check it! i look deeper; i see blood up on his sneakers
and his fist gripped a chrome four-fifth
so i dip, n-gg-! is you creepin’ or speakin’?
he tells me c-rock just got hit up at the beacon
i opens up the door, pitiful: “is he in critical?”
retaliation for this one won’t be minimal
cause i’m a criminal way before the rap sh-t
bust the gat sh-t; puff won’t even know what happened
if it’s done smoothly, silencers on the uzi
stash in the hooptie, my alibi: any cutie
with a booty that done f-ck big pop
head spinnin’, reminiscin’ ’bout my man c-rock

somebody gotta die
if i go, you got to go
somebody gotta die
let the gunshots blow
somebody gotta die
n-body got to know
that i k!lled yo -ss in the midst, kid
somebody gotta die
if i go, you got to go
somebody gotta die
let the gunshots blow
somebody gotta die
n-body got to know
that i k!lled yo -ss in the midst, kid

fillin’ clips, he explained our situation
precisely, so we know exactly what we facin’
“some kid named jason, in a honda station wagon
was braggin’, about how much loot and crack he stackin’
rock had a grip so they formed up a clique
a small crew ’round the time i was locked up with you”
“true indeed”
“but yo n-gg-, let me proceed
don’t fill them clips too high, give them bullets room to breathe
d-mn, it was our year
went outta town, blew the f-ck up
d-roc went home and jay got stuck the f-ck up
hit him twice, caught him right for the persian white
pistol whipped his kids and taped up his wife (n-gg-s is trife)
he figured roc set ’em up, no question
wet em up no less than 50 shots in his direction”
“how many shots?” “man n-gg-, i seen mad holes”
“what kinda gats?” “hecklers, kochs, and calicos
but f-ck that, i know where all them n-gg-s rest at
in the buildin’ hustlin’ and they don’t be strapped
supreme in black is downstairs, the engine runnin’
find a bag to put the guns in, and c’mon if you’re comin’

- slight lyrics

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