Lyrics
Pick up to six lines to make a card.
Verse 1
He was born on the outskirts of Watts
Father was a crackhead, momma did shots of heroin
A crack baby—will he live? Maybe
He did, another kid born on the county now
Finally, he got old enough to get put on the hood
And in the circle of niggas he stood
Now he's down as Baby Loc on the set
And all the OG homies in the hood give him respect
The newest nigga on the set best've put in work
A badder nigga, keep a nine under his khaki shirt
It's 'cause he's warm, he's always armed
The law's arms ain't long еnough
Juvenile hall is the mall
You ain't fuckin' with \[?]
This kid's a killеr, career criminal
Born in the \[?]
\[?] to jack bitches for county checks
I bet he started slangin' rocks, then the hood got popped
So he ran up in a different spot and almost got shot
Now he's standin' on the corner, thinkin' 'bout some ends
Ain't the type of nigga to be beggin' from his friends
Niggas live in hell, devils live in lavish
He did the mathematics and it came to 2-11
Cash flow the equivalent, he prays on innocents
Old white lady drivin' a Mercedes with the windows cracked
Jack move ain't the word, \[?] heard the bitch screaming
It happened so quickly, nobody positively ID'd him
Back to the shadows goes a mad nigga
And I'm pissed off right about now
Verse 2
He never went to school, he never went to church
He ran away from home and nobody cared to search
Now he's older, bolder, a tattoo on his shoulder
Respect on the street, tryin' to make ends meet
And he's thinkin' of a master plan
It ain't nothin' but a tec inside his hand
A man finna go crazy, \[?]
Probably a robbery,"Stickin' 'em up, put your hands up!"
By a young nigga who needs to pull his pants up
Stands up on his two feet and hit the street
The patrol is set, \[?]
Lookin' through the front page
Killin', willin' to die but ain't willin' to run
Stickin' guns in crackers' mouths
Keep 'em comin' out their pocket
The cops can't stop it, this nigga can't stop it
Pull the hammer back and cock it
It's the shock of your life
America's nightmare, a mad nigga
And I'm pissed off right about now
Verse 3
He cried on the outskirts of Watts
He lied on the outskirts of Watts
Proud on the outskirts of Watts
The nigga died on the outskirts of Watts
Now the homies miss him
They write "Rest in Peace" on the wall
Pour out some 8 Ball for the dead homie
He was the one and only
But there's niggas born like him every day
I see it every day in South Central L.A
I pray to God help, my niggas and myself
I might just say we need some mental health
We got Black-on-Black crime at the wrong time
Remember 4/29/92 goin' to Normandy
Comin' to a corner near you
Cracker creepin' through your area, mass hysteria
Led by a motherfuckin' Menace Clan
A mad nigga
And I'm pissed off right about now
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