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letra de worryin' bout a classic - nick grant

[verse 1]
yeah, it ain’t no windows in my projects
just dreaded shooters hittin’ scores like they wyclef
poor communication was a cancer to my progress
we only felt we measured up when mixin’ out the pyrex
my ego misunderstood, so n-ggas overlook me
it’s funny how the underbelly showed you who was p-ssy
some find they gift behind prison walls, think what you could be
holdin’ that tre piece out the car like i’m cuba gooding
behind the eight ball
my granny’s house peace, her soul deep as the voice of nate dogg
she asked was i just hangin’ with k!llers to resonate more?
i told her, no, it’s love, but i feel i’m at risk like ray charles
ayy, dog
i rocked my brother’s hand-me-downs, now i help him up ladders
poor but royal, puttin’ foil on tv antennas
before my karma and my black trauma was manufactured
they said my mama was freebasin’, she’s hittin’ the batter
i had to learn the hard way this street sh-t ain’t for beginners
when shooters hit like kobe, they gon’ staple your center
food stamps was dollar bills, we had to fend for our own
as these crackers judge us, my skin color would set the tone, yeah

[chorus]
it’s like these n-ggas play a game called “who gon’ die the fastest?”
my n-gga keep a 9, he rock it like it’s latest fashion
and they don’t give no f-ck, these n-ggas even rob the pastor
i’m tryna get my people right, you worryin’ ’bout a classic
worried for you
worried for you
worried for you, yeah
[verse 2]
yeah, i watched my cousin die at school like, “this sh-t for real?”
was close to him, so it left me with a distant chill
remember watchin’ sister act to get me out my feels
twenty years later, i’m on tour with lauryn hill, the silver lining
you turn your back and you don’t scr-p, then you’s a ho for real
i gotta get up outta here, this sh-t too slow for real
my granny prayin’, so i walk ’round with jehovah’s shield
from where the drive-bys make you relearn your motor sk!lls
parents fightin’
wakin’ me up out my sleep, these police sirens
still haunted by the ptsd
was the underdog, my auntie prayed mama aborted me
we dyin’ ever day, the lesson in that, don’t trust the weak
they never taught us nothin’ but how to cut class and cut a key
wish i had a dollar for every rat that i knew would squeak
left him on his chest, gave new meaning to hugging the street
caught a stray in broad day ’cause all these dogs off the leash
preach

[verse 3]
yeah
i know a kid with no father, his father was a victim of a manslaughter (don’t you ever lose control)
his mama keep bringin’ n-ggas around
he starts to learn from these n-ggas, he looks at them like a father (guard your mind, don’t lose your soul)
sooner or later, they’re gone
young man, you gotta stay guarded, the world is heartless
these are more than just rap lines
life is a broken clock, i can’t get back time
my n-ggas sellin’ wet, yet never been baptisized
no loyalty, they switchin’ sides like it’s half time
the reaper’s outside, so stay in this b-tch
they check the toe-tag, rather die than to be labeled a b-tch
ain’t got no white neighbors, still, i’m on the waviest sh-t
ridin’ ’round with a banger like a radio hit
wait for the cl!ck

[outro]
don’t you ever lose control
sunday dinner

- nick grant

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