Poor Righteous Teachers

Poor Righteous Teachers - Miss Ghetto songtekst

Je score:

Yeah  This one is dedicated to all my niggaz in central New Jerusalem
 All the brothers who picked up that ring after I put it down
 And took Miss Ghetto to be their unlawfully wedded wives
 Poor Righteous Teachers representing the nine

 It's like that and you don't stop
 She's like cocaine  running around my brain
 Miss Ghetto be like cocaine, running around your brain

 I know some crack slingers, crack slingers and cracker shankers
 They soldier-train us, teaching their kids to murder strangers
 They live for danger, they express the "I a Nigga"
 Miss Ghetto got 'em dreaming of loot and Swiss bankers
 The finest weapons, packing tri-action Smith and Wessons
 Unlike the 80's, ladies packing 680's(?)
 The shit is crazy, but it's like the ghetto babies
 They gotta eat, so the streets provide the gravy
 I thought that maybe I could show them that other way G
 of Gods and Earths, resurrected through mental birth
 From death to life, teaching niggas of every type
 The wrongs and rights, to put an end to living trife
 The black man is God, the 12th jewel is thirteen
 The pursuit of it can make savages out of kings
 Cause blush, to live with these niggas is in a rush
 In God they trust, so they sell crack to us
 Lust for what whitey got and whitey has
 Can see your ass on pursuit to get cash
 To look thrash, to driving the latest jags
 To rock rags made by Italian fags
 See, I never meant to fall in love with this shit
 But Miss Ghetto you's a slut so I'm divorcing you bitch
 Bust it

 Chorus:
 I ain't marrying Miss Ghetto again
 First chance I get to bounce world life I'm bouncing (x2)

 She's like cocaine running around my brain
 (No matter how much loot I get I'm staying in the projects) (x2)

 Down in my gutter
 Just like others there's teenage mothers
 There's dying brothers, shooting out with one another
 They wanted badly, for sisters to call them Daddy
 To drive a Caddy, stories unheard by Dear Abby
 They're dressing flashy
 Can't be caught in fatigue khakis
 They're rocking cool G(?), versace and cold boots G
 These brothers do it for the love of the life
 But I refuse to fall twice and take Miss Ghetto to wife
 I used to sex her, bust my nut, get my cash real fast
 But that was all that she produced, I felt my life wouldn't last
 We used to go to New York, traffic guns of all sort
 When killing became sport street life became short
 I thought, "Are we junkies like these baseheads, Yo
 They addicted to the crack while we addicted to dough"
 For truly, I never meant to fall in love with this shit
 But Miss Ghetto you's a slut so I'm divorcing you bitch
 Bust it

 Chorus

 See, there go some niggas that I used to roll with
 Still on that crack and gun shit
 Endless pursuit to rush shit, bust it
 Miss Ghetto got 'em strung out on the putang cream
 That does up Wu-Tang fiends
 For slingin cocaine, dig it
 We used to do the bumper crack for the sex
 While making love to the checks, Miss Ghetto's steelo complex
 Living trifling, no matter where my life went
 Miss Ghetto, my new wife, went she made it more exciting
 Fighting, shooting out, doing all types dirt
 Being these, seeing G's putting in much work
 Word, we used to keep a sisters underwear laced
 With ganja and freebase and bo juice to parlay
 Flip! Me and my niggas ran the strip pushing dips
 Black cats and plastics, fucking the minds of black kids
 Till one day, I was confronted by this wise old chap
 He said, "I know you sell crack, but what, you out to kill blacks?"
 I wasn't trying to hear it, my excuse sorta weak
 I said that we gotta eat, that's why we running these streets
 Then he said, "Don't you know that whitey give you that coke,
 that bullshit pursuit of plush that got you killing your folk?"
 Life, I didn't understand that shit back then
 But now I do so I refuse to roll with whitey again
 Bust it
 I ain't marrying Miss Ghetto again
 First chance I get to bounce word life I'm bouncing, niggas.

 I ain't marrying Miss Ghetto again
 First chance I get to bounce word life I'm bouncing, niggas.

 Chorus x2

 See Gods, you like cocaine, fucking with my brain
 You like cocaine, running around my brain
 For the love of this
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Copyrights:

Auteur: Albert Johnson, Kejuan Muchita, Scott Phillips (3), Timothy Grimes

Componist: ?

Publisher: Profile Records, Inc.

Details:

Uitgegeven in: 1996

Taal: Engels

Komt voor op: New World Order (1996)

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