Текст, перевод и аккорды “On My Way To Harlem”
- Verse 1: I know a place where the trees don't grow Just another place where niggaz live low I know a place where life is fucked up Make a wrong move and your ass get stuck up Time ain't nothin but a frame of mind And life is like a mountain or a steep ass climb I've been lookin for a place to leave The only free place is inside of me So let's take a trip, and you don't need a grip But you better be equipped cause it might be some shit African-American, nothin but a nigga Had our fingers on the trigger, but I pulled mine quicker I know a place where there ain't no calm and You better stay away if you're soft like Charmin South Central, Los Angeles, Watts, and Compton A nigga on the west coast on his way to Harlem Verse 2: Now it's time to step into the light (Light) Put up your dukes, there's gonna be a fight (Fight) And when it's time to fight, you better fight right Cause if it don't fight right, out goes the light Take a close look at what I'm freakin on Niggaz think I'm tweekin, but I'm speakin on Subject matter, data Information that I gather Through my travels Cause the hardest of the hard, hit hardcore killer Can't stop the slug of a nine millimeter Everybody thinks they know, but they know not If they haven't caught a cap on the block *gunshot* So shine up your boots and pick up the pieces Grab a fresh pair of khakis with the sharp ass creases Ring the alarm, here comes the storm I got a firearm on my way to Harlem Verse 3: I know a place where the sun don't shine Everybody is a victim of neighborhood crime I know a place where niggaz walk the line One false step and they must do time Since I'm in the same boat I must stay afloat And sing every note From the quotes that they wrote So, I look into the past and walk the path of the greats So I wont make the same mistakes that sealed my ancestors fates If I had to be a slave I'd rather be in my grave If I get in how many lives could I save? One, two, three, a hundred, a thousand My heart is poundin, the devil keeps soundin But he don't want my money, he wants my soul So I reach like a tree, and like a weed I grow My stomach is full, but my mind is starvin Rollin in a g ride on my way to Harlem
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