Gem$tarr
This one goes out to, the hood rats and thieves
The silent ones with a scheme and some tricks in the sleeve
For the bangers and the slangers, street kids with a dream
To the lost ones with no hope , stuck in the scenes
To the homies that passed, to the ones getting locked
To the ready rock on the block, with a quality lock
To the writers, street fighters and the toughest of necks
To my brothers holding it down and reppin the set
A juvenile delinquent, with painted trigger finger
Live to bomb the system, and raise a crooked middle finger
Like f*ck it, It's blunt smoke and trays get filled with ashes
Welfare class bastard skipping all of my daily classes
Never chasing ass when, I could be doing somethin'
Productive, cause its nothin' compared to my dysfunction
Pops ain't here, My Momma got no say
Welfare life ain't fair, and me, my mind don't play
So serious the peer pressure from all those ways
I'm feeling forced all day to play the pipe or stray
No cash for school, f*ck that, nobody understands
A brain like a genius, a soul like a mad man
I say f*ck it ,lemme be a liquor bud puppet
Knock me up a hood rat and say this shit life I love it
A never ending cycle of stupidity and dope
Dime dealing can't break the bank you need coke
Your only way of livin, fuk a nine to five cause its dumb
Life is short let me live it, only care about the fun
Runnin up a gimmick scrimmage, only focus on the funds
Run up on you for your digits, holding on a phony gun
Rolaid crack rocks, dupe a dummy for the gwap
Sold so many fake packs, never scared about the ops
Do what ya gotta do, get a grip or let it go
Rather do some dirty shit, for a dollar than be broke
I'm quite near most of my positive goals
I suppose my old bros still tucking me tho
Talking like I let em go, f*ck a fictional flow
I'm sick of bitch and gang banging the tricks n the hoes
Simplistic dope stricken is straight mixed up in the blow
That I deliver to your liver through ya ear not ya nose
So no one know but fo sho, I keep the clip with a roll
I'm talking bank roll dollars independently flown
Only serenity shown is to the people befo'
Who seen my potential I hold had my back for the most
Middle finger to hoes and all the bitches I know
That tried to fixate on fictions causin' friction and froze
False figments getting pissy tryna diss me then grow
And say they miss me wanna kiss me make it up and Legggo
And I ain't bitter I'm sweet about it im green for the go
I mean I'm fiending to grow and polish up on my soul
Forget it tho, I'm past the limit of an ignorant life
40000$ car with and a kid and a wife
Came out the mutha f*ckin' gutter and now I'm livin' it right
No more welfare cheques, no more livin' it trife
No more welfare cheques, no more livin' it trife
I put my pen to the paper and I kill it with mics
Yeah
Yeah I kill it with mics
Yo
This one goes out to, the hood rats and thieves
The silent ones with a scheme and some tricks in the sleeve
For the bangers and the slangers, street kids with a dream
To the lost ones with no hope , stuck in the scenes
To the homies that passed, to the ones getting locked
To the ready rock on the block, with a quality lock
To the writers, street fighters and the toughest of necks
To my brothers holding it down and reppin the set
Gem$tarr - Thief's Theme Lyrics
Gem$tarr - Thief's Theme Lyrics
We currently do not have these lyrics.
If you would like to submit them, please use the form below.
We currently do not have these lyrics.
If you would like to submit them, please use the form below.
Gem$tarr
This one goes out to, the hood rats and thieves
The silent ones with a scheme and some tricks in the sleeve
For the bangers and the slangers, street kids with a dream
To the lost ones with no hope , stuck in the scenes
To the homies that passed, to the ones getting locked
To the ready rock on the block, with a quality lock
To the writers, street fighters and the toughest of necks
To my brothers holding it down and reppin the set
A juvenile delinquent, with painted trigger finger
Live to bomb the system, and raise a crooked middle finger
Like f*ck it, It's blunt smoke and trays get filled with ashes
Welfare class bastard skipping all of my daily classes
Never chasing ass when, I could be doing somethin'
Productive, cause its nothin' compared to my dysfunction
Pops ain't here, My Momma got no say
Welfare life ain't fair, and me, my mind don't play
So serious the peer pressure from all those ways
I'm feeling forced all day to play the pipe or stray
No cash for school, f*ck that, nobody understands
A brain like a genius, a soul like a mad man
I say f*ck it ,lemme be a liquor bud puppet
Knock me up a hood rat and say this shit life I love it
A never ending cycle of stupidity and dope
Dime dealing can't break the bank you need coke
Your only way of livin, fuk a nine to five cause its dumb
Life is short let me live it, only care about the fun
Runnin up a gimmick scrimmage, only focus on the funds
Run up on you for your digits, holding on a phony gun
Rolaid crack rocks, dupe a dummy for the gwap
Sold so many fake packs, never scared about the ops
Do what ya gotta do, get a grip or let it go
Rather do some dirty shit, for a dollar than be broke
I'm quite near most of my positive goals
I suppose my old bros still tucking me tho
Talking like I let em go, f*ck a fictional flow
I'm sick of bitch and gang banging the tricks n the hoes
Simplistic dope stricken is straight mixed up in the blow
That I deliver to your liver through ya ear not ya nose
So no one know but fo sho, I keep the clip with a roll
I'm talking bank roll dollars independently flown
Only serenity shown is to the people befo'
Who seen my potential I hold had my back for the most
Middle finger to hoes and all the bitches I know
That tried to fixate on fictions causin' friction and froze
False figments getting pissy tryna diss me then grow
And say they miss me wanna kiss me make it up and Legggo
And I ain't bitter I'm sweet about it im green for the go
I mean I'm fiending to grow and polish up on my soul
Forget it tho, I'm past the limit of an ignorant life
40000$ car with and a kid and a wife
Came out the mutha f*ckin' gutter and now I'm livin' it right
No more welfare cheques, no more livin' it trife
No more welfare cheques, no more livin' it trife
I put my pen to the paper and I kill it with mics
Yeah
Yeah I kill it with mics
Yo
This one goes out to, the hood rats and thieves
The silent ones with a scheme and some tricks in the sleeve
For the bangers and the slangers, street kids with a dream
To the lost ones with no hope , stuck in the scenes
To the homies that passed, to the ones getting locked
To the ready rock on the block, with a quality lock
To the writers, street fighters and the toughest of necks
To my brothers holding it down and reppin the set
This one goes out to, the hood rats and thieves
The silent ones with a scheme and some tricks in the sleeve
For the bangers and the slangers, street kids with a dream
To the lost ones with no hope , stuck in the scenes
To the homies that passed, to the ones getting locked
To the ready rock on the block, with a quality lock
To the writers, street fighters and the toughest of necks
To my brothers holding it down and reppin the set
A juvenile delinquent, with painted trigger finger
Live to bomb the system, and raise a crooked middle finger
Like f*ck it, It's blunt smoke and trays get filled with ashes
Welfare class bastard skipping all of my daily classes
Never chasing ass when, I could be doing somethin'
Productive, cause its nothin' compared to my dysfunction
Pops ain't here, My Momma got no say
Welfare life ain't fair, and me, my mind don't play
So serious the peer pressure from all those ways
I'm feeling forced all day to play the pipe or stray
No cash for school, f*ck that, nobody understands
A brain like a genius, a soul like a mad man
I say f*ck it ,lemme be a liquor bud puppet
Knock me up a hood rat and say this shit life I love it
A never ending cycle of stupidity and dope
Dime dealing can't break the bank you need coke
Your only way of livin, fuk a nine to five cause its dumb
Life is short let me live it, only care about the fun
Runnin up a gimmick scrimmage, only focus on the funds
Run up on you for your digits, holding on a phony gun
Rolaid crack rocks, dupe a dummy for the gwap
Sold so many fake packs, never scared about the ops
Do what ya gotta do, get a grip or let it go
Rather do some dirty shit, for a dollar than be broke
I'm quite near most of my positive goals
I suppose my old bros still tucking me tho
Talking like I let em go, f*ck a fictional flow
I'm sick of bitch and gang banging the tricks n the hoes
Simplistic dope stricken is straight mixed up in the blow
That I deliver to your liver through ya ear not ya nose
So no one know but fo sho, I keep the clip with a roll
I'm talking bank roll dollars independently flown
Only serenity shown is to the people befo'
Who seen my potential I hold had my back for the most
Middle finger to hoes and all the bitches I know
That tried to fixate on fictions causin' friction and froze
False figments getting pissy tryna diss me then grow
And say they miss me wanna kiss me make it up and Legggo
And I ain't bitter I'm sweet about it im green for the go
I mean I'm fiending to grow and polish up on my soul
Forget it tho, I'm past the limit of an ignorant life
40000$ car with and a kid and a wife
Came out the mutha f*ckin' gutter and now I'm livin' it right
No more welfare cheques, no more livin' it trife
No more welfare cheques, no more livin' it trife
I put my pen to the paper and I kill it with mics
Yeah
Yeah I kill it with mics
Yo
This one goes out to, the hood rats and thieves
The silent ones with a scheme and some tricks in the sleeve
For the bangers and the slangers, street kids with a dream
To the lost ones with no hope , stuck in the scenes
To the homies that passed, to the ones getting locked
To the ready rock on the block, with a quality lock
To the writers, street fighters and the toughest of necks
To my brothers holding it down and reppin the set
Writer: Devon Anderson
Copyright: Lyrics © O/B/O DistroKid
Copyright: Lyrics © O/B/O DistroKid