Po n*gga Blues (Scott Storch Remix) lyrics

by

Lloyd Banks


* Ron Isley harmonizes throughout but sings no real lyrics

(Scott, Storch) Hey!

[Hook: 2Pac]
Why'd you slang crack? I had to
Why'd you slang crack? Cause I had to
Why'd you slang crack? Cause I had to
A n*gga gotta pay the f*ckin rent

[Verse 1]
Crazy, I gotta work with what'chu gave me
You claimin I'm a criminal and you the one that made me
They got me trapped in this slavery
Now I'm lost in this holocaust headin for my grave G
I told Sam he could f*ck the war
And got a busted jaw for sayin f*ck the law
And if you wonder why I'm mad check the record
What's a n*gga gotta do to get respected?
Sometimes I think I'm gettin tested
And if I don't say yes a n*gga's quick to get arrested
That's the reason I stay testin
I keep a vest on my chest in case the cops are gettin restless
Walkin around, ready to light sh*t up
But since my life is f*cked, some say I'm slightly nuts
Buck buck is the sound as I move up
Other n*ggas pay attention when a fool bust, huh
They make a n*gga be a killer; I used to be a dealer
But they wanted to see who's realer
Now them same motherf*ckers wanna murder me
And I wonder if the Lord ever heard of me, huh
I need loot, so I'm doin what I do
And don't say sh*t until you walked in my shoes
There was no other destiny to choose
I had nuttin left to lose, so I'm singin n*gga blues
[Hook]
Why'd you slang crack? I had to
Why'd you slang crack? Cause I had to
Why'd you slang crack? Cause I had to
A n*gga gotta pay the f*ckin rent

[Verse 2]
Poppa need brand new shoes, but what the f*ck can a n*gga do?
My little boy gotta eat too
So why must I sock a fella
Just to live large like Rockefeller?
And did you ever stop to think
I'm old enough to go to war, but I ain't old enough to drink
Cops wanna hit me with the book, huh
And you're hooked on my "I Don't Give a f*ck" look
Make your rules, I'mma break 'em
No matter how much you make 'em, you show me bacon I'm take 'em
So don't you ever tempt me
I'm a fool for mine n*gga and my pockets stay empty
To my brothers in the barrio
You're livin worse than the n*ggas in the ghetto so
I give a f*ck about your language or complexion
You got love from the n*ggas in my section
You got problems with the punk police?
Don't run from the chumps, get the pump from me
We ain't free, I'll be damned if I play the trick
For a blonde-haired, blue-eyed, caucausian b*tch
Down with my homeboy Rich, huh
f*ck a snitch and a groupie-ass b*tch
And the n*gga with a cellular phone, leave his baby at home
So he can go out and bone, huh
And you wonder why we blazin n*ggas
Cause you punks havin babies can't raise the n*ggas
And they bound to be f*ck-ups too
Drinkin forties of brew, huh, singin n*gga blues
[Hook 2]
Why'd you slang crack? Cause I had to
Why'd you slang crack? Cause I had to
Why'd you slang crack? Cause I had to
Now I'm headin for the motherf*ckin pen
Why'd you slang crack? Cause I had to
Why'd you slang crack? Cause I had to
Why'd you slang crack? Cause I had to
Now I'm headin for the motherf*ckin pen
Why'd you slang crack? Cause I had to
Why'd you slang crack? Cause I had to
Why'd you slang crack? Cause I had to
Now I'm headin for the motherf*ckin pen

[Ron Isley ad libs to fade]
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