Inf-Red - 45th Era

Alright, alright
Five, four, three

This ain't no
Green eggs and ham
More like, fuck uncle sam
For deductions and interrupting
My saturday plans, I'm screamin'
Free all my mans, who are
Caught in the jam
For cookin' it up in pans
Just to bread in family hands
Cause I know
We all got dreams
To ball like we rondo
We all wanna count dough
Spend money we can't account for
Oh, young nigga
With a dollar and a dream
Tryin' to make the cut
Before the call scene
Traumatized to death
Cause all that I seen
Maybe I'm just blinded by
The bling, bling (Yeah)
Every time they come around the city
Shots get popped
And it's really no biggie
Notorious for slaying warriors
Print the news
Then change the story up
How many times
Will the system make us lose
How many times
Will a mom cry her blues
Cause the war ain't kill her son
He was murked by you
If you from where I'm from
Nigga what would you do
If a

Nigga rolled on ya'
Shots get popped on corners
Policemen make they quota
White men think they own ya'

Tell me, would ya' load up
If nigga rolled up on ya'
Shots get popped on corners
White men think they own ya'

Would ya' load up
Or would ya' choke up
Or shall we pour up
A couple 40s for the shorties
Who never made it to see 25
You forever live
Never crossed your mind
It was calling time

Baptized in my own flesh
My last breath left me soulless
On this concrete, where I sleep
I used to run streets and pack heat
Like a desert, life was measured
By a bullet, look who pulled it
Look who took it

Yeah
I said I'm steady trying to find a way
Yea, but my dreams they seem to fade away
I guess that's just a hardaway
A penny with no magic, so tragic
The struggles everlasting
So the cycle just recycle cause its habits
White man made off like Madoff
In a Maybach way back
When slave trapped
And the whips cracked
Had master yellin' take that, take that
No Diddy, just video
Of a cop gettin' off with murder
They burglars, white house
Building walls and serve burgers
They don't want beef tho
Not with people
Straight from the streets yo' (Uh)
Gotta carry heat like its lethal
One eye on you like a peephole
Niggas shooting shots like they free throws
Ya' cross the line, you're bound to die
So dot your i's its eye for eye
And cross your t's for casualties
A masterpiece now rest in streets
A masterpiece now rest in peace
Cause when a

Nigga rolled on ya'
Shots get popped on corners
Policemen make they quota
White men think they own ya'

Tell me, would ya' load up
If nigga rolled up on ya'
Shots get popped on corners
White men think they own ya'

Would ya' load up
Or would ya' choke up
Or shall we pour up
A couple 40s for the shorties
Who never made it to see 25
You forever live
Never crossed your mind
It was calling time

Baptized in my own flesh
My last breath left me soulless
On this concrete, where I sleep
I used to run streets and pack heat
Like a desert, life was measured
By a bullet, look who pulled it
Look who took it

Written by:
Airika Hurling

Publisher:
Lyrics © O/B/O DistroKid, Sony/ATV Music Publishing LLC

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