lirik lagu young n dumb – knowledge the pirate & big ghost ltd
[chorus]
young and dumb with my hand on my gun
i wanted to be the man in the slum (with rounds in the trunk)
young and dumb with my hand on my gun
where america eats is
[verse 1]
my little n*gga, you got your whole life ahead of you
they gave you five in juvenile, don’t do life in federal
poppin’ them pills, sippin’ that lean, smokin’ that medicial
he pulled up in that lexus with that rolex perpetual
look in his eyes like, “nothin’ else is acceptable”
he popped the trunk on the lex’, had ten pounds of thеm vegetables
i lookеd at ’em like, “how you movin’ is questionable”
it’s not what you do, but how you do it’ll be the death of you
sh*t, we grew up in a house without no father figures
they wanna rock balenciaga, hoodie coogi sweaters
he f*cked up a brick, and they head shot ’em
that turnt his off*white nikes into some red bottoms
first is they picked ’em up, and then the feds got ’em (yeah, they picked ’em up last night, my n*gga)
for movin’ that bill clinton, the hilary rider
four cases in five states, he was globe trottin’ (yo, listen)
four cases in five states, he was globe trottin’
they charged ’em with narcotics but couldn’t make the murder stick
a few of his accomplishes testified on the things he did
they charged ’em as a kingpin when he was just a kid
yo, listen
[chorus]
young and dumb with my hand on my gun
i wanted to be the man in the slum, yo
young and dumb with my hand on my gun
where america eats is
[verse 2]
we push them packs that them older n*ggas supplied us with
designer drip, a bunch of young boys formin’ alliances
in the kitchen cookin’ cocaine like scientists (yo, i’ma take that hundred grand and charge two*hundred*fifty, son)
yo, we supply the strip, blowin’ l’s, dividin’ chips
watch how you post them pics; they lookin’ for a l!ck
and they run up on you, and they book you for your sh*t (yo)
they got the drop when that n*gga slipped, uh
schemes of gettin’ rich, attitude stink, he with the sh*ts
he took one of his young boys to ride and do the hit
they murderd the own the dog like michael vick; ’cause he was sittin’ on a half a brick
[interlude]
sh*t, i was—, i mean one time i try to talk to my lil’ n*ggas
tell ’em, “man, y’all got a whole life ahead of you, man, that sh*t y’all doin’ in jail ain’t matter”
i gotta slow down with all that bullsh*t, man
this sh*t and money don’t mix, word
[chorus]
young and dumb with his hand on his gun
i wanted to be the man in the slum, yo
young and dumb with my hand on my gun
where america eats is
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