Streets Is Talking

(album: The Dynasty Roc La Familia - 2000)

Is he a Blood, is he Crip?
Is he that, is he this?
Did he do it? Y'know, eh
Look

If I shoot you, I'm brainless
Different toilet, same shit, and I'm sick of explaining this
I'm waiting on arraignment, my nigga is the plaintiff
Yeah, I know what you thinking – fucked up ain't it?
I shoulda known better, and I planned to
But dog they be taking me out of my zone like a nigga with a handle
I sat back and watched it, put the Gats back in the closet
They tried to tie my hands like an Iraqi hostage
Let niggas take shots at me, no response
I just flip and, pop my collar like the Fonz
You give a nigga a foot, he'll take you one step beyond
He'll try to play you twice, the third time is the charm
You wanna conversate with the writer of the Qur'an
Or Old Testament, don't test him then
I know what y'all thinking dick, pause
Your future's my past, I've been here before
I know when you're scheming, I feel when you plotting
I got, mental vision, intuition
I know where you going I read your mind's navigational system
Everybody whispering – pst pst pst ss perspiring

When the, streets is talking, niggas is gossiping
Bitches all in your shit, what's the cause of it?
I need to know... geah geah
Yeah yeah yeah, yeah

You see me with a bodyguard that means police is watching
And I only use his waist to keep my Glock in
But when shit goes down you know who's doing the popping
And if you don't know, guess who's doing the dropping
S dot again, y'all got him in a bad mood
Bad move; that's bad news
How many times have I got to prove?
How many loved ones have you got to lose
Before you realize that it's probably true?
Whatever Jigga say, Jigga probably do
Shit, I paid my dues, I made the news
I came in the door for dolo, blazed the crews
And the streets say Jigga can't go back home
You know when I heard that? When I was back home
I'm comfortable dog, Brooklyn to Rome
On any Martin Luther, don't part with your future
Don't ever question if I got the heart to shoot ya
The answer is simply too dark for the user
And as a snot-nose they said that he got flows
But will he be able to drop those before the cops close in?
'Fore the shots froze him, and he's dead and gone
From what the block has spoken, my God
Everybody stressing, who's his baby's moms?
Who he got pregnant, let me tell you, ah

When the, streets is talking, niggas is gossiping
Bitches all in your shit, what's the cause of it?
I need to know... chicka-uh-ah, ah-chk-ah-uh-ah
Chicka-ch-ah, chk-ah-ah-ah
When the, streets is talking, niggas is gossiping
Bitches all in your shit, what's the cause of it?
I need to know gi-gi-gi, geah yeah uh, yeah yeah uh
Yeah, yo, yo

I seen my first murder in the hall, if you must know
I lost my Pops when I was eleven, mm, twelve years old
He's probably somewhere where the liquor is taking its toll
But I ain't mad at you dad, holler at your lad!
I grew up pushing snowflake to niggas that was pro-base
The stress'll take a young nigga, give him a old face
All I did was smoke joke, think and drink
Copped 'caine and complained, front row watch game
I seen niggas before me, with a chance to write their own script
Slip up and change the story
I seen young niggas go out in a blaze of glory
Before reaching puberty, scared a nigga truthfully
I took trips with so much shit in the whip
That if the cops pulled us over the dog'd get sick, sniff
Smell me, nigga? The real me, nigga, minus the rumors
Holler if you feel me, nigga

The streets is not only watching but they're talking now?
Shit, they got me circling the block before I'm parking now
Don't get it twisted, I ain't bitching, I'm just cautious now
Sub, under the parka, extra cartridge now
Hit his click Sig' up you fell at it you're dense
I get word to the street like Bell Atlantic and Sprint
I feel the vibes and I hear the rumors
But fuck it, I'm still alive and I'm still in Jumu'ah I know 'stafallah
Niggas wanna press me, put my back to the wall
But pressure bust pipes I know, I spat it to y'all
To know me's to love me, you see me, can't be me, hate this
Fuck you, I got guns like Neo in Matrix
Cross the Family, think Mac's sweet like Karo
Or soft like Play-Doh, get knocked off like Fredo Corleone
They find you with a hole in your dome
I roll with niggas that'll follow you and go to your home
Thought you ball, but nigga you fall to my defense
Catch you while you reaching
Clip you then I cross you then I'm leaving
Apply full court pressure
Like .44 Taurus get you out of here, pull pressure
To the trigger, bullets fly in three's
You forever rest under bullshit, dirt, lies and leaves
I do bullshit, dirt, tell lies then leave
Look in my eyes, realize it's Beans
Niggas wanna despise the team; 'til I play head coach
And straight up, divide their team
Trade their man for some pies and a couple of things
'Til the bullet ah, motherfuckers! Yeah