lirik lagu well, well – jimblah
[verse]
the street’s is a place you don’t really wanna go
when you need a spot to rest and nowhere to call home
[?] for the money, cash exchange on the low
rob a liquor store, rippin’ off another crop
bein’ watched by the cops with a number next to your name
on a piece of paper, home invasions
count the ways that crime pays, see, you gotta lotta time locked up
in a state prison, ain’t getting’ nowhere
any better than this, three strikes and you’re out
f*ck life for the [?], swear homie
doesn’t know what time that is
he was schooled by the streets but didn’t use his
street smarts
it’s time we use what they gave us
you could see your ancestors painted
rain falls down on this bloodstained earth
it’s time put the hard work in ‘til i pass out
march in my heart now, beats under pressure
‘cause what they left us, imagine in ‘67
so we ain’t finished yet, and they can run outta priv*
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