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letra de where i come from (remix) - killah priest

(hook) mr. probz 2x
where i come from (where i come from)
only the streets know (only the streets know)
we live and die, stand by the cause
you gotta make it on ya own

[w-lly northpole]
w-lly get the bakin’, i’m troy aikman, it’s ballerstatus
whether legal or ductapin’, i gotta have it
w-lly stranglin’ beats, your career is hangin’
see it’s danglin’ feet, i’m disturpin’ the peace
got the urge of money in my sleeves
hood dreamin’, i’m schemin’, gotta eat
w-lly bout to crack blow, not smokin’, it’s dat flow
big lou, probz and state quo
get low, get down or sit down
any beat that i’m on, i zone, i chris brown
any city i’m in, i throne, you kids ground
some n-ggas ball, some lil n-ggas bow wow
some n-ggas spar, some other n-ggas pal-pal
i do it the wild ways; you do it for childs play
chunky -ss n-ggas, so-unlucky -ss n-ggas
your hoes wanna f-ck me -ss n-ggas

[k!llah priest]
i’m from the slums where n-ggas squeeze guns
police often come, homicide, mama’s traumatized
guns aimed at the skies
kool g armor wit the llama on the thigh
bang shots near train stops
cocaine’s chop for profit
then came the prophet in white garment
but we can’t see him really because of the projects
its nonsense, police charge us wit revolvers
fiends noddin’ on the apartment’s right across the street
the police departments
they rush us, we squeeze at the sergeants
brooklyn bullpens, no cushions, blood gushing
thug’s lookin’, drug pushin’
n-ggas who spilled crack while givin’ you dap
n-ggas pointed to the floor revealin’ their gats
dog, cat and a rat, the morgue casket, funeral’s packed
the usual, black suits, veil, fall from their hats
you can be the one in the delivery room
or the one in the visitin’ room, under the mystique moon

[stat quo]
i am the reciter, sent from god to inspire
the writer of writers, stack ki’s till the fire
my desire to acquire a position much higher
still speak the truth tho i’m surrounded by liars
keep it movin’, lames shootin’ at my tires
but my heads in the clouds, i’m flyer
dead fish is my attire, king himself i’m sire
hoes admire, eh, they enquire
supplier and buyer, hip-hop’s richard pryor
i’m no joke, folks sleepin’ on stat, they got the itis
write so much you think i have arthritis
my voice is a quiet riots
since the truth is transparent can’t do nuttin’ to hide it
rep for my foes when i open my eyelids
and when revolution come i be standin’ beside ’em

[doitall]
i’m from a g state, where the g’s are great
you can find me in the brickz wit the shoes and lace
cuz i be trip on you n-ggas but i don’t need the case
one .9, one deuce, watch you fools get ate
mr. brickz, mr. doitall, i’m all over the place
i’m in the back of the jeep ride wit a cup of grape
i know a couple gon’ hate till i unleashed the eights
i’m from where a deadman walk, pick ya funeral place
i know the headman talk, but he a lil too late
b-tch, mr. brickz in here, make you fall to ya face
i’mma god and stay great, like its cognac straight
and i still don’t trust a bank; i keep the save in a safe
if you against where i’m from, that ain’t the safest place
we got them avenues and blocks, have you jumpin’ the gates
have you testin’ ya faith, have you yellin’ “wait!”
jersey i rep it, but you can tell it on my face

[big lou]
i’m from the home of the ‘dc sniper’
8 miles without mekhi phifer
surrounded by criminals and lifers
that’ll take the life away like diphers
i’m from camden, the streets of the bone collector
that’ll dug up ya ancestors
kids stick plastic locks thru school metal-detectors
for protection cuz the teacher is a child molester
the best investor was the mayor of the city
but the goons in his committee was buffoons
they got ’em lookin’ all pretty, but f-ck ’em
i know cats that wanna slump ’em and trunk ’em and dump ’em
cuz the mayor snitched on n-ggas that use to trust ’em
and in my ghetto k!llers take shots but it ain’t on metal
correctional armour metal, the shots from the beretta
read another article, they cut a man into particles
for tryna play the game like a carnival
till we got out the pocket without callin’ an audible
now his body is the size of a portable
television, this sh-t is horrible

[hussein fatal]
hey! you gotta make it on ya own out here
so if i’m rip before i slip, i got the chrome out here
ain’t no second guessin’ a sucka for a k!llin’ in no time
and i guarantee you the walk is not a riddle of rhyme
i’m from the home of david tyree, we catchin’ that rock
but then the sins on time, i ain’t stressin’ that block
i’m gon’, prrrr…. faster then mickey and lisa
barber pitchin’ ya starvin’ tryna stick to these streets
i’m harley, eva seen out there
unless you catch me off my outlawz sh-t but then i’m green out there
and even tho i got my team out there
i’m still on my own grand hustle ground like j.g. out there
yeah.. when it’s peace i’mma wear my gun
and that’s word to k!lla kadafi know where i’m from
when they see me they know where i come from
n-gga cuz where i’m from? homie the streets know i wear my gun

[sha stimuli]
we so backwards, that we measure the realness of a city by how many get k!lled in
i was a born in a building where i saw the most wonderful children
growin’ up wit drugs and drama instilled in and i’m still here
braggin’ callin’ brooklyn crazy is my home
where you can get shot for an iphone
reachin’ 25 is a milestone
we love to say we come from a wild zone
the flatline sound like a dialtone
it’s sad but it’s true
ol’ dirty b-st-rd comepared it to a zoo
we already knew if you escaped crack and heroin the folks wanna mug you
you didn’t sell to feed ya self, then the hood ain’t gon’ love you
you made it out and went to college all you do is gon’ say “f-ck you”
you get some chips and push ya whip or two they prolly gon’ slug you
you can’t win, i don’t step wit no s-x
but i’m pressed to protect where i rest in my head low

[tha advocate]
geah, ayo welcome to the east coast where you keep ya heat close
if you wonder bout there bread they might squeeze toast
g’s quote a street oath to live by and keep close
streets leaked wit needles and kilos
of cheap dope, we need hope, but see yo
there’s somethin’ about being broke
that makes you appreciate the little things that be so
minimized our bitter lives, makes us epitomize
bigger rides and cribs wit five floors full of sh-t we buy
look at my life, look thru my gl-sses
look at my past – it’s littered wit bad sh-t
but sh-t whose isn’t? stress infects the city
if you bare your arms you’ll see ess-x is grizzly
me, stat, lou, sha, priest and w-lly
doitall, mr. probz made an anthem like a milli
chant if you feel me, cuz jersey is in the building
this is where the f-ck i’m from, now bring in the singing

(hook) mr. probz 4x

- killah priest

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