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letra de eastwood confessions of papa j. ruiz - von poe vii

introduction:

so what we talkin’ bout? we talking bout police, mothaf-ckin feds, what we talkin’ bout? the mothaf-ckin government, religion, b-tches, liquor, weed, all that shit. that real shit yall need to hear

[verse one: papa j. ruiz]

shit i be like f-ck em’
i don’t need no friends
and i will live forever
i don’t see no end
riding inside of this hooptie
treat it like it’s a benz
i break the weed down take out the stems
f-ck who pretends
from a town where them baggies of that deep bulk
of green hope
the price contends to see-saw
we hustling for that reward
but me lord
because i’m spittin
they literally look at me like i’m a retard
but i can’t turn back
because my feet fall on recharge
not shining young homie
perro antes i’m just trying to get up out this shit
carlitos pregantes
don’t turn to john doe
watch your friends around them benny blancos
te begga si la plant están el banco

[bridge]

i solemnly swear, for that mothaf-ckin dollar, i will turn into a crooked -ss mothaf-cka right? that’s what this country do to yall

[verse two: papa j. ruiz]

now one time
for every time i done seen it
for the time being that we here
we get crucified for no reason
since before my lady on leavage
i been chasing this money
and chasing this dream
a new breed of young leaders
and mothaf-ckas gon’ see us
cause that early preparation
in this war is always needed
threat is always organized
for sumerian to speak it now
give me props now give me dues
don’t follow code
i done broke the rules
snakes disguised
while shaking hands
with people that i once knew
like f-ck homie
but now i just stare at moons
and paranoia kicks in
and smoking “l”s don’t help the mood
ones that k!ll you
are the ones that say that they’re there for you
and i apologize
in that sixth grade
that em and jay
that renegade that paved the way
for me to grab my nuts and say
f-ck you i’m getting paid
give me what i want
ima raid the place
run up in the spot
and take the grammy
speak loud
i’m never rambling
hey, look at my face
i’m that reason to grow
breaking that chief with the blow
should of been defeated at lowes
failed a couple of times
now i’m back tough
middle finger ima act up
two fives
rub your tits
put your -ss up
eighth down
f-ck the cops pulled up
it’s a shake down

[interlude]

i got uh, one white male, one black male, two brown males. i need fifty cars – police officer

[bridge]

it’s all the grinding, up early
aye ryan we recording? we recording?
aight that’s solid
all i ever wanted was this
all i ever wanted was this
yall mothaf-ckas just playin with this
take it up, and grind
got that moaning shit

[verse three: papa j. ruiz]

and as i dream
fall work hard for all my shit
matter of fact
i talk to god about all this shit
my son needs clothes
the rent is due
no side slackin homeboy
i gotta get this loop
i stand alone on no coward shit
and the lord bless those that overwork
so i overtime on hour shifts
the feeling overwhelmed wanna quit
i said i can’t, land of the hate
brainwashed by them benjamin franks
big dreams f-ck a minimum wage
and the partners all around me
seen them similar days
blood sweat mixed with tears
run down my cheek
once upon a time i remember
i was too young to speak
but i understood i couldn’t ever fear defeat
judge a man homeboy when he’s done complete
i stay running and i’m hoping
trying to find me some light
still roam with the night
but my money not right
but i give you my all
i give a f-ck
if the world rejects my word and b-lls
all i’ve had since i was being choked
with an umbilical cord
dear lord
let a youngin wake up
the next morning
take a fresh breath of air
and rise up again
get the goals i prosper for
i never acted as a person
that i never thought i was
love will have these busters
slippin on their rubber gloves
trying to get you when the clock strike ten
getting rich or die trying
get you smoked
by your very best friend
see when you die
people try to go and f-ck your b-tch
and i’ll be d-mned man
throw stones and hit me with sticks
but i be forward moving
the potent user
that bust like a ruger
doing damage like bazooka
the ruler tell you move b-tch
like i was luda
the fewer the shooter
to shoot a youngin
that be shootin for lunas
olive buckley
cold december
and just remember
you ain’t never had a friend like me
sometimes i sit and wonder
if god ever had to go and sin like me
and had calls with his cousin
from the pin like me
and smoked with his outlawz
before they ride like g’z
you’ll never find by iii
define iii
by the places that no longer find iii
the dry drive
blood of cry
while these rhymes keep me inside
house of my momma’s chicken and rice
for the little one
while your drama cl-ss taught me
how to roll dice
in my eyes
bangin, gettin money, stripes
b-tches with the fat -ss that admire some rides
guns and knives
the spice
no mager heights
g-code
lived off 7-11 doritos
i speak words that a beast would
out the eastwoods
with the heat good
bustin like eastwood
out they gran torino

- von poe vii

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