Bad Luck Lyrics
| Song | Bad Luck |
| Artist | Stogie T |
| Artist | Haddy Racks |
| Album | The Empire of Sheep (Deluxe Unmasked) |
| Download | Image LRC TXT |
| 作词 : Boitumelo Molekane/Harold Easterling | |
| 作曲 : Matthew Gerard Bathon Jr | |
| It’s that pain right here. Haddy Racks…I salute to all the Generals worldwide. SALUTE! | |
| Peace to all the real ****ers | |
| Verse 1 (Haddy Racks): | |
| If it wasn’t for doing bad, I wouldn’t know about doing good | |
| The other day they killed my bitch Gunner in my hood | |
| They shot him in his leg and his chest | |
| A ****er went through his arm | |
| The Doc said he bled to his death | |
| They said a teenager gripped the nine | |
| But the worst part is that he left his wife and two kids behind | |
| We from the hood, where everyday you risking your life | |
| You catch a sentence, your main man is sticking your wife | |
| Make sure your vision is tight | |
| I know Gees who made a killing selling crack | |
| Now they the ones hitting the pipe | |
| Jokes aside, it’s hard to keep hope alive | |
| Better chill especially if you’re too broke to die | |
| I seen Gunner’s hands crossed on his waist | |
| Laying in the the casket, I’m like that got to be the loneliest place | |
| I cant believe they caught him slipping them snakes | |
| He wasn’t resting in peace, he had revenge written all in his face | |
| Whole family crying tears, we mad he left | |
| His sons is 13, thinking about revenging his daddy’s death | |
| I’m from the Bronx New York, where it’s scary at | |
| You wouldn’t dare be be at | |
| Where they carry Mack’s in their fanny packs | |
| Killers want your life, you gotta ante that | |
| They cant find where you be at | |
| They gone shoot the house of where your granny at | |
| *****s on jail waiting on their appeal | |
| I’m from New York where the love’s so fake but the hate so real | |
| Chorus (Haddy Racks): | |
| Wasn’t for bad luck, I wouldn’t have love | |
| Wasn’t for doing bad, I wouldn’t know about doing good | |
| It ain’t safe walking through my hood | |
| It could be a beautiful day, you might het hit up with a stray | |
| Verse 2 (Stogie T): | |
| My dude is Cape Malay | |
| Screw face for days | |
| He ain't phased when newspapers | |
| Dont Include where they stay | |
| The blues shape the day | |
| Red alert no music is played | |
| Two layers | |
| Either snake or the flute player's game | |
| A true layer cake | |
| The bottom where the cruel make a stake | |
| No fork and knive, it's life | |
| Held with shoelace in place | |
| Cooks an escape | |
| Hustlin, the crook label stays | |
| Booked for a day, Baptize him | |
| Hood say he made | |
| Pent up rage from a tender age | |
| Turn him to a mental case | |
| Said every face is a dinner Plate | |
| I say 'Ace why you feel this way?' | |
| He wasn't raised in his feelings | |
| Just took another sip of Dusse | |
| Funeral bouquets, mum crying this shit is doomsday | |
| Ain't even miss a school day | |
| Just another Tuesday | |
| This what the rules say you carry til your due date | |
| get taken out when they crowning another fool king | |
| Tats of his two kids, baby mom too lit | |
| She two timing ****ers like the '92 Blue Jays | |
| The crew fades | |
| Dead or in jail, peddling cane, | |
| I am no pure Saint | |
| To tell him he can't live how he can | |
| We in the van bumping old tupac shit | |
| He speaks of his dad, | |
| How he got moved by this, | |
| Two blacks kids | |
| Tryna manuoevre through Life's pits | |
| Was it bad luck or bad blood | |
| Who runs this? | |
| Chorus (Haddy Racks): | |
| Wasn’t for bad luck, I wouldn’t have love | |
| Wasn’t for doing bad, I wouldn’t know about doing good | |
| It ain’t safe walking through my hood | |
| It could be a beautiful day, you might het hit up with a stray |
| zuo ci : Boitumelo Molekane Harold Easterling | |
| zuo qu : Matthew Gerard Bathon Jr | |
| It' s that pain right here. Haddy Racks I salute to all the Generals worldwide. SALUTE! | |
| Peace to all the real ers | |
| Verse 1 Haddy Racks: | |
| If it wasn' t for doing bad, I wouldn' t know about doing good | |
| The other day they killed my bitch Gunner in my hood | |
| They shot him in his leg and his chest | |
| A er went through his arm | |
| The Doc said he bled to his death | |
| They said a teenager gripped the nine | |
| But the worst part is that he left his wife and two kids behind | |
| We from the hood, where everyday you risking your life | |
| You catch a sentence, your main man is sticking your wife | |
| Make sure your vision is tight | |
| I know Gees who made a killing selling crack | |
| Now they the ones hitting the pipe | |
| Jokes aside, it' s hard to keep hope alive | |
| Better chill especially if you' re too broke to die | |
| I seen Gunner' s hands crossed on his waist | |
| Laying in the the casket, I' m like that got to be the loneliest place | |
| I cant believe they caught him slipping them snakes | |
| He wasn' t resting in peace, he had revenge written all in his face | |
| Whole family crying tears, we mad he left | |
| His sons is 13, thinking about revenging his daddy' s death | |
| I' m from the Bronx New York, where it' s scary at | |
| You wouldn' t dare be be at | |
| Where they carry Mack' s in their fanny packs | |
| Killers want your life, you gotta ante that | |
| They cant find where you be at | |
| They gone shoot the house of where your granny at | |
| s on jail waiting on their appeal | |
| I' m from New York where the love' s so fake but the hate so real | |
| Chorus Haddy Racks: | |
| Wasn' t for bad luck, I wouldn' t have love | |
| Wasn' t for doing bad, I wouldn' t know about doing good | |
| It ain' t safe walking through my hood | |
| It could be a beautiful day, you might het hit up with a stray | |
| Verse 2 Stogie T: | |
| My dude is Cape Malay | |
| Screw face for days | |
| He ain' t phased when newspapers | |
| Dont Include where they stay | |
| The blues shape the day | |
| Red alert no music is played | |
| Two layers | |
| Either snake or the flute player' s game | |
| A true layer cake | |
| The bottom where the cruel make a stake | |
| No fork and knive, it' s life | |
| Held with shoelace in place | |
| Cooks an escape | |
| Hustlin, the crook label stays | |
| Booked for a day, Baptize him | |
| Hood say he made | |
| Pent up rage from a tender age | |
| Turn him to a mental case | |
| Said every face is a dinner Plate | |
| I say ' Ace why you feel this way? ' | |
| He wasn' t raised in his feelings | |
| Just took another sip of Dusse | |
| Funeral bouquets, mum crying this shit is doomsday | |
| Ain' t even miss a school day | |
| Just another Tuesday | |
| This what the rules say you carry til your due date | |
| get taken out when they crowning another fool king | |
| Tats of his two kids, baby mom too lit | |
| She two timing ers like the ' 92 Blue Jays | |
| The crew fades | |
| Dead or in jail, peddling cane, | |
| I am no pure Saint | |
| To tell him he can' t live how he can | |
| We in the van bumping old tupac shit | |
| He speaks of his dad, | |
| How he got moved by this, | |
| Two blacks kids | |
| Tryna manuoevre through Life' s pits | |
| Was it bad luck or bad blood | |
| Who runs this? | |
| Chorus Haddy Racks: | |
| Wasn' t for bad luck, I wouldn' t have love | |
| Wasn' t for doing bad, I wouldn' t know about doing good | |
| It ain' t safe walking through my hood | |
| It could be a beautiful day, you might het hit up with a stray |
| zuò cí : Boitumelo Molekane Harold Easterling | |
| zuò qǔ : Matthew Gerard Bathon Jr | |
| It' s that pain right here. Haddy Racks I salute to all the Generals worldwide. SALUTE! | |
| Peace to all the real ers | |
| Verse 1 Haddy Racks: | |
| If it wasn' t for doing bad, I wouldn' t know about doing good | |
| The other day they killed my bitch Gunner in my hood | |
| They shot him in his leg and his chest | |
| A er went through his arm | |
| The Doc said he bled to his death | |
| They said a teenager gripped the nine | |
| But the worst part is that he left his wife and two kids behind | |
| We from the hood, where everyday you risking your life | |
| You catch a sentence, your main man is sticking your wife | |
| Make sure your vision is tight | |
| I know Gees who made a killing selling crack | |
| Now they the ones hitting the pipe | |
| Jokes aside, it' s hard to keep hope alive | |
| Better chill especially if you' re too broke to die | |
| I seen Gunner' s hands crossed on his waist | |
| Laying in the the casket, I' m like that got to be the loneliest place | |
| I cant believe they caught him slipping them snakes | |
| He wasn' t resting in peace, he had revenge written all in his face | |
| Whole family crying tears, we mad he left | |
| His sons is 13, thinking about revenging his daddy' s death | |
| I' m from the Bronx New York, where it' s scary at | |
| You wouldn' t dare be be at | |
| Where they carry Mack' s in their fanny packs | |
| Killers want your life, you gotta ante that | |
| They cant find where you be at | |
| They gone shoot the house of where your granny at | |
| s on jail waiting on their appeal | |
| I' m from New York where the love' s so fake but the hate so real | |
| Chorus Haddy Racks: | |
| Wasn' t for bad luck, I wouldn' t have love | |
| Wasn' t for doing bad, I wouldn' t know about doing good | |
| It ain' t safe walking through my hood | |
| It could be a beautiful day, you might het hit up with a stray | |
| Verse 2 Stogie T: | |
| My dude is Cape Malay | |
| Screw face for days | |
| He ain' t phased when newspapers | |
| Dont Include where they stay | |
| The blues shape the day | |
| Red alert no music is played | |
| Two layers | |
| Either snake or the flute player' s game | |
| A true layer cake | |
| The bottom where the cruel make a stake | |
| No fork and knive, it' s life | |
| Held with shoelace in place | |
| Cooks an escape | |
| Hustlin, the crook label stays | |
| Booked for a day, Baptize him | |
| Hood say he made | |
| Pent up rage from a tender age | |
| Turn him to a mental case | |
| Said every face is a dinner Plate | |
| I say ' Ace why you feel this way? ' | |
| He wasn' t raised in his feelings | |
| Just took another sip of Dusse | |
| Funeral bouquets, mum crying this shit is doomsday | |
| Ain' t even miss a school day | |
| Just another Tuesday | |
| This what the rules say you carry til your due date | |
| get taken out when they crowning another fool king | |
| Tats of his two kids, baby mom too lit | |
| She two timing ers like the ' 92 Blue Jays | |
| The crew fades | |
| Dead or in jail, peddling cane, | |
| I am no pure Saint | |
| To tell him he can' t live how he can | |
| We in the van bumping old tupac shit | |
| He speaks of his dad, | |
| How he got moved by this, | |
| Two blacks kids | |
| Tryna manuoevre through Life' s pits | |
| Was it bad luck or bad blood | |
| Who runs this? | |
| Chorus Haddy Racks: | |
| Wasn' t for bad luck, I wouldn' t have love | |
| Wasn' t for doing bad, I wouldn' t know about doing good | |
| It ain' t safe walking through my hood | |
| It could be a beautiful day, you might het hit up with a stray |
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