6 'N the Mornin'

6'n the morning' police at my door

Fresh Adidas squeak across the bathroom floor

Out the back window, I make a escape

Don't even get a chance to grab my old school tape

Mad with no music but happy 'cause I'm free

And the streets to a player is the place to be

Gotta knot in my pocket weighin' at least a grand

Gold on my neck my pistols close at hand

I'm a self-made monster of the city streets

Remotely controlled by hard hip hop beats

But just livin' in the city is a serious task

Didn't know what the cops wanted

Didn't have the time to ask

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Seen my homeboys coolin' way out

Told 'em bout my mornin' cold bugged' em out

Shot allmenn little dice until my knees got sore

Kicked around some stories bout the night before

Possed to the corner where the fly girls chill

Through action at some freaks until one bitch got ill

She started actin' stupid simply would not quit

Called us all punk pussies said we all weren't shit

As we walked over to here hoe continued to speak

So we beat the bitch down in the god damn street

But just livin' in the city a serious task

Bitch didn't know what hit her didn't have time to ask

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Continued clockin' freaks with emcee posterior

Rollin' in allmenn blazer with a Louie interior

Solid gold the ride was raw

Bust allmenn left turn was on Crenshaw

Sean-e-sean was the driver Known to give freaks hell

Had a beeper goin' off like a high school bell

Looked in the mirror, what did we see?

Fuckin' blue lights, L.A.P.D.

Pigs searched our car, their day was made

Found allmenn uzi, 44 and a handgranade

Threw us in the county high power block

No freaks to see, no beats to rock

Didn't want trouble, but the shit must fly

Squabbled, this sucker shanked 'em in the eye

But livin' in the county is a serious task

Nigga didn't know what happened

Didn't have time to ask

Back on the streets after five and a deuce

Seven years later but still had the juice

My homeboy Ken Gee put me up the track

Told me E's rollin' Villain, BJ's got the sack

Bruce is a giant, Nat C's clockin' Dough

Be bop's a pimp, my old freaks a hoe

The batter rams rollin' rocks are the thing

Life has no meaning and money is king

Then he looked at me slowely and Hen had to grin

He said, "Man you out early we thought you got ten"

Opened his safe kicked me down with cold cash

Knew I would get busy, he didn't waste time to ask

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I bought a Benz with the money the rest went to clothes

Went to the strip strted pimpin' the hoes

My hair had grew long on my seven year stay

And when I got it done on my shoulders it lay

Hard from the joint but fly to my heart

I didn't want no trouble, but the shit had to start

Out with my crew some ounks got loud

Shot gun blasts echoed through the crowd

Six punks hit two punks died

All casualties applied to their side

Human lives has to pass just for talking much trash

We didn't know who they were, no one had the time to ask

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