Dead Homies Lyrics
| Song | Dead Homies |
| Artist | Goodie Mob |
| Album | One Monkey Don't Stop No Show |
| Download | Image LRC TXT |
| 作词 : Barnett, Gipp, Knighton, Lyon ... | |
| Ha ha Yeah | |
| What's happening world | |
| This is for all my homeboys who didn't get to see a new year yeah, yo [Chorus x2] | |
| This for my homeboys dead and gone | |
| Off in the bushes, we pour out liquor, and roll up swisher smoke [Big Gipp] | |
| The hood has changed since you left, man | |
| I see your mom and dad got a new jag | |
| Little Jason work at | |
| Papa John's, saw your other brother | |
| Kelly In the basement at | |
| Killer Bee's house | |
| Tuesday night fights, | |
| ESPN, Sportcenter, big screen | |
| You know how these | |
| Eastpoint vets do | |
| Can you recall riding bicycles in the trails behind | |
| Krissy Collins dropping | |
| Huffys like | |
| BMX's Your first car was a | |
| Honda, my first car was a rabbit | |
| Cut parties with a tall can or something | |
| Off in the 800 | |
| Ol' E, man, that old girl | |
| She always fell, drunk off the pink champell | |
| Yeah, reminiscing going through adolescence with you | |
| Hoping that these words get to you in good spirit | |
| Your partna | |
| Gipp won't forget you, my little brother | |
| Went to prison last week, since he been in we barely speak [Chorus x4] [Khujo] | |
| Rest in peace, to all the brothers | |
| And sisters who didn't make it to see, a struggle | |
| In the flesh, my folk thought | |
| I'm in the carcus | |
| I don't worship the sun no more, | |
| I follow David | |
| Carresh So | |
| I'm living right, the tears of many with a | |
| Sheet pulled over my fucking head, | |
| I'm hanging in there | |
| Like a wasp nest, meanwhile niggaz is quiting on me | |
| Falling victum to stress | |
| I'm filling it with your diction homie,but that don't | |
| Take away from my spirit and my mind, one time | |
| For my homie | |
| Barat, and my homie | |
| Quentin And my shawty | |
| Felicia, and my partna | |
| Floppy I'm still living for you, | |
| I'm still swinging on a nigga | |
| Still pulling on a flicker flicker, as | |
| I inhale the smoke | |
| With my kinfolk, | |
| G-double O- | |
| D-I-E M-O- | |
| B for L-I- | |
| F-E [Chorus x4] [T-Mo] | |
| You want this gold clean and shining | |
| Don't need to remind me about the divine, he polishes | |
| And demolish his competitors, who was the editor | |
| To bad mouth these boys that bred in the | |
| South Where chicken's fried on the daily, and rebel flags fly | |
| I have no love for confederate sons but guns | |
| And no hogs' good for me, people like my type | |
| To spark the spiritual fight with the devil off tonight | |
| When he's white, at anytime, and any rhyme | |
| With substance is looked at as racist | |
| When good ol' boys is still doing hangings | |
| And Mississippi having no pity on my color skin | |
| Not having a choice from the begin, little brothers | |
| Like me to pose a physical threat, but check | |
| Let me grab a hold of my black steel | |
| And I'll show all y'all who's real c'mon [Chorus x4] |
| zuo ci : Barnett, Gipp, Knighton, Lyon ... | |
| Ha ha Yeah | |
| What' s happening world | |
| This is for all my homeboys who didn' t get to see a new year yeah, yo Chorus x2 | |
| This for my homeboys dead and gone | |
| Off in the bushes, we pour out liquor, and roll up swisher smoke Big Gipp | |
| The hood has changed since you left, man | |
| I see your mom and dad got a new jag | |
| Little Jason work at | |
| Papa John' s, saw your other brother | |
| Kelly In the basement at | |
| Killer Bee' s house | |
| Tuesday night fights, | |
| ESPN, Sportcenter, big screen | |
| You know how these | |
| Eastpoint vets do | |
| Can you recall riding bicycles in the trails behind | |
| Krissy Collins dropping | |
| Huffys like | |
| BMX' s Your first car was a | |
| Honda, my first car was a rabbit | |
| Cut parties with a tall can or something | |
| Off in the 800 | |
| Ol' E, man, that old girl | |
| She always fell, drunk off the pink champell | |
| Yeah, reminiscing going through adolescence with you | |
| Hoping that these words get to you in good spirit | |
| Your partna | |
| Gipp won' t forget you, my little brother | |
| Went to prison last week, since he been in we barely speak Chorus x4 Khujo | |
| Rest in peace, to all the brothers | |
| And sisters who didn' t make it to see, a struggle | |
| In the flesh, my folk thought | |
| I' m in the carcus | |
| I don' t worship the sun no more, | |
| I follow David | |
| Carresh So | |
| I' m living right, the tears of many with a | |
| Sheet pulled over my fucking head, | |
| I' m hanging in there | |
| Like a wasp nest, meanwhile niggaz is quiting on me | |
| Falling victum to stress | |
| I' m filling it with your diction homie, but that don' t | |
| Take away from my spirit and my mind, one time | |
| For my homie | |
| Barat, and my homie | |
| Quentin And my shawty | |
| Felicia, and my partna | |
| Floppy I' m still living for you, | |
| I' m still swinging on a nigga | |
| Still pulling on a flicker flicker, as | |
| I inhale the smoke | |
| With my kinfolk, | |
| Gdouble O | |
| DIE MO | |
| B for LI | |
| FE Chorus x4 TMo | |
| You want this gold clean and shining | |
| Don' t need to remind me about the divine, he polishes | |
| And demolish his competitors, who was the editor | |
| To bad mouth these boys that bred in the | |
| South Where chicken' s fried on the daily, and rebel flags fly | |
| I have no love for confederate sons but guns | |
| And no hogs' good for me, people like my type | |
| To spark the spiritual fight with the devil off tonight | |
| When he' s white, at anytime, and any rhyme | |
| With substance is looked at as racist | |
| When good ol' boys is still doing hangings | |
| And Mississippi having no pity on my color skin | |
| Not having a choice from the begin, little brothers | |
| Like me to pose a physical threat, but check | |
| Let me grab a hold of my black steel | |
| And I' ll show all y' all who' s real c' mon Chorus x4 |
| zuò cí : Barnett, Gipp, Knighton, Lyon ... | |
| Ha ha Yeah | |
| What' s happening world | |
| This is for all my homeboys who didn' t get to see a new year yeah, yo Chorus x2 | |
| This for my homeboys dead and gone | |
| Off in the bushes, we pour out liquor, and roll up swisher smoke Big Gipp | |
| The hood has changed since you left, man | |
| I see your mom and dad got a new jag | |
| Little Jason work at | |
| Papa John' s, saw your other brother | |
| Kelly In the basement at | |
| Killer Bee' s house | |
| Tuesday night fights, | |
| ESPN, Sportcenter, big screen | |
| You know how these | |
| Eastpoint vets do | |
| Can you recall riding bicycles in the trails behind | |
| Krissy Collins dropping | |
| Huffys like | |
| BMX' s Your first car was a | |
| Honda, my first car was a rabbit | |
| Cut parties with a tall can or something | |
| Off in the 800 | |
| Ol' E, man, that old girl | |
| She always fell, drunk off the pink champell | |
| Yeah, reminiscing going through adolescence with you | |
| Hoping that these words get to you in good spirit | |
| Your partna | |
| Gipp won' t forget you, my little brother | |
| Went to prison last week, since he been in we barely speak Chorus x4 Khujo | |
| Rest in peace, to all the brothers | |
| And sisters who didn' t make it to see, a struggle | |
| In the flesh, my folk thought | |
| I' m in the carcus | |
| I don' t worship the sun no more, | |
| I follow David | |
| Carresh So | |
| I' m living right, the tears of many with a | |
| Sheet pulled over my fucking head, | |
| I' m hanging in there | |
| Like a wasp nest, meanwhile niggaz is quiting on me | |
| Falling victum to stress | |
| I' m filling it with your diction homie, but that don' t | |
| Take away from my spirit and my mind, one time | |
| For my homie | |
| Barat, and my homie | |
| Quentin And my shawty | |
| Felicia, and my partna | |
| Floppy I' m still living for you, | |
| I' m still swinging on a nigga | |
| Still pulling on a flicker flicker, as | |
| I inhale the smoke | |
| With my kinfolk, | |
| Gdouble O | |
| DIE MO | |
| B for LI | |
| FE Chorus x4 TMo | |
| You want this gold clean and shining | |
| Don' t need to remind me about the divine, he polishes | |
| And demolish his competitors, who was the editor | |
| To bad mouth these boys that bred in the | |
| South Where chicken' s fried on the daily, and rebel flags fly | |
| I have no love for confederate sons but guns | |
| And no hogs' good for me, people like my type | |
| To spark the spiritual fight with the devil off tonight | |
| When he' s white, at anytime, and any rhyme | |
| With substance is looked at as racist | |
| When good ol' boys is still doing hangings | |
| And Mississippi having no pity on my color skin | |
| Not having a choice from the begin, little brothers | |
| Like me to pose a physical threat, but check | |
| Let me grab a hold of my black steel | |
| And I' ll show all y' all who' s real c' mon Chorus x4 |
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