lirik lagu 2pac – smoked out – dj chop up
[hook x8: dj chop up as 2pac]
smoked out, loc’d out
strap, go!
[verse 1: 2pac]
i’m headed for the penitentiary and cuttin’ cl-ssing
i’m buckin’, blastin’, straight mashin’
mobbin’ through the overp-ss laughin’
while these other motherf-ckers try to figure out, no doubt
they jealous of a n-gg-‘s clout, tell me lord
can ya feel me? i keep my finger on the trigger
cause some n-gg-s tryna k!ll me
and mama raised a h-llraiser, everyday gettin paid
police on my pager, straight stressin
a fugitive, my occupation is under question
wanted for investigation, and even though
i’m marked for death, i’mma spark ’til i lose my breath
motherf-ckers, every time i see the paper
i see my picture, when a n-gg-‘s gettin’ richer
they come to get ya, it’s like a motherf-ckin’ trap
and they wonder why it’s hard bein black
[hook x8: dj chop up as 2pac]
smoked out, loc’d out
strap, go!
[verse 2: 2pac]
i live the life of a thug, hope you understand
forgive me for my mistakes, i gotta play my hand
and my hand’s on the sixteen-shot, semi-automatic
crooked cop k!llin glock, tell me lord
can ya feel me? show a way
i’m prayin but my enemies won’t go away
and everywhere i turn i see n-gg-s burn
every n-gg- that i know’s on death row
my younger homie’s seventeen and he paid a price
little young motherf-cker doin triple life
though i tell him in his letters, it’s gettin better
if my n-gg- knew the truth he’d hit the roof
just heard ya baby’s mama was smoked out, f-ck the drama
wanna break my loc out, smokin blunts
gettin drunk off that tanqueray gin
’bout to break my n-gg- out the f-ckin’ pen’
[hook x8: dj chop up as 2pac]
smoked out, loc’d out
strap, go!
[verse 3: 2pac]
i’m on my knees beggin please come and save me
the whole world done made a n-gg- crazy!
i got my three-five-seven can’t control it
screamin die motherf-cker and he’s loaded
everybody run for cover, aww sh-t
thug life motherf-cker, duck quick
now am i wrong if i am don’t worry me
cause do or die gettin high till they bury me
dear lord can ya hear me, when i die
let a n-gg- be strapped, f-cked up, and high
with my hands on the trigger, thug n-gg-
stressin’ like a motherf-ckin’ drug dealer
and even in the darkest nights, i’m a thug for life
i got the heart to fight now
mama raised a h-ll-raiser why cry
that’s just life in the ghetto, do or die
[hook x8: dj chop up as 2pac]
smoked out, loc’d out
strap, go!
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