Spice 1

Spice 1 - 187 He Wrote lyrics

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I'm tryin to keep my aces and my deuces all together
 I'm thinkin of self murder I know I won't live forever
 This chronic got me noid I need to get a job
 but instead I wanna sell dope hang on a rope and steady mobb
 I'm wakin up in the morning thinkin of death as I break out in a cold sweat
 I'm havin dreams of a whole family put to rest
 Visions of a dead man body bags
 and all the youngsters gettin their cap peeled over coloured rags
 I write about murder and death cause thats all in the hood
 comin up strong while in crack yo G its all good
 Describin a way of life that they don't understand G
 So Imma keep breakin it down until dey understand me
 You see its real G and jealousy it roam my block
 Thats why I'm never leavin the house without my plastic glock
 Cause if they want it they'll take it and kill for it
 And if its worth sumptin then blood gettin spilled for it
 My mother thinks I'm goin crazy
 And when I leave the house she just stares out the window
 I think I'm being followed everytime I leave my home
 Havin these fatal thoughts of gettin chrome to my dome

 [ CHORUS ]
 18--187 me say the murder the murder he wrote
 18--187 me say the murder the murder he wrote--- blooooow

 [ VERSE 2 ]
 Did things up in the past that I regret at 22
 And when I hit 23 I hope I'm livin well as you
 Its good to be alive in 93 I guess that so
 But if I gotta go I gotta go I gotta go
 I guess I'm just a soldier with a song out of the streets black
 Stressin of that chronic sack but I feel death is knockin at my bed
 Sleep walkin with my pistol in the middle of the night
 Wakin up inside my hooptie holdin my glock full of fright
 Violent in this art thats only because its comin from a G to the heart
 Got friends that have died and I mourn for their families
 Bringin flowers to dey graves everytime I get a chance G
 Nuthin like a old school homie from the hood
 Which are right or wrong doin dirt doin good
 And now I know inside I'll never see my boy again
 I fie myself always pour brew out fo my friends

 CHORUS

 [ VERSE 3 ]
 I'm keepin all my pictures from my homies up in jail
 If I told you what dey did it will problably turn your pale
 I used to hang wit killers and I didn't even know
 Wrestlin wit my homies as a youngster age 4
 Now half of dem is dead and the rest is in the jailhouse
 Writin to me monthly givin they homies sumtin to rap about
 Tell me do my music and don't trip off what dey say
 Thinkin to myself I might just be in there one day
 Some stayed about the big house and still slangin yay
 And now dey stayin under diction of feds everyday
 Tryin to wash their money they wanna go on tour G
 Gettin into the business learn about the industry
 Try to help em out doin everythang I can
 I still gotta worry bout the next jealous man
 My homies gettin robbed so they rob somebody else
 You can see it never stops let that story tell itself
 I'm walkin wit my head down pervin in the rain
 Thinkin deep askin myself am I insane
 I think about that daily and I'm leavin on that note
 and thats the definition of the 187 that he wrote

 CHORUS
Get this song at:
bol.com
amazon.com

Copyrights:

Author: ?

Composer: ?

Publisher: Real Talk Entertainment

Details:

Released in: 1993

Language: English

Appearing on: 187 He Wrote (1993)

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