6 'N the Mornin'

6'n the morning' police at my door
 Fresh Adidas squeak across the bathroom floor
 Out the back window, I make a escape
 Don't even get a chance to grab my old school tape
 Mad with no music but happy 'cause I'm free
 And the streets to a player is the place to be
 Gotta knot in my pocket weighin' at least a grand
 Gold on my neck my pistols close at hand
 I'm a self-made monster of the city streets
 Remotely controlled by hard hip hop beats
 But just livin' in the city is a serious task
 Didn't know what the cops wanted
 Didn't have the time to ask
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 Seen my homeboys coolin' way out
 Told 'em bout my mornin' cold bugged' em out
 Shot allmenn little dice until my knees got sore
 Kicked around some stories bout the night before
 Possed to the corner where the fly girls chill
 Through action at some freaks until one bitch got ill
 She started actin' stupid simply would not quit
 Called us all punk pussies said we all weren't shit
 As we walked over to here hoe continued to speak
 So we beat the bitch down in the god damn street
 But just livin' in the city a serious task
 Bitch didn't know what hit her didn't have time to ask
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 Continued clockin' freaks with emcee posterior
 Rollin' in allmenn blazer with a Louie interior
 Solid gold the ride was raw
 Bust allmenn left turn was on Crenshaw
 Sean-e-sean was the driver Known to give freaks hell
 Had a beeper goin' off like a high school bell
 Looked in the mirror, what did we see?
 Fuckin' blue lights, L.A.P.D.
 Pigs searched our car, their day was made
 Found allmenn uzi, 44 and a handgranade
 Threw us in the county high power block
 No freaks to see, no beats to rock
 Didn't want trouble, but the shit must fly
 Squabbled, this sucker shanked 'em in the eye
 But livin' in the county is a serious task
 Nigga didn't know what happened
 Didn't have time to ask
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 Back on the streets after five and a deuce
 Seven years later but still had the juice
 My homeboy Ken Gee put me up the track
 Told me E's rollin' Villain, BJ's got the sack
 Bruce is a giant, Nat C's clockin' Dough
 Be bop's a pimp, my old freaks a hoe
 The batter rams rollin' rocks are the thing
 Life has no meaning and money is king
 Then he looked at me slowely and Hen had to grin
 He said, "Man you out early we thought you got ten"
 Opened his safe kicked me down with cold cash
 Knew I would get busy, he didn't waste time to ask
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 I bought a Benz with the money the rest went to clothes
 Went to the strip strted pimpin' the hoes
 My hair had grew long on my seven year stay
 And when I got it done on my shoulders it lay
 Hard from the joint but fly to my heart
 I didn't want no trouble, but the shit had to start
 Out with my crew some ounks got loud
 Shot gun blasts echoed through the crowd
 Six punks hit two punks died
 All casualties applied to their side
 Human lives has to pass just for talking much trash
 We didn't know who they were, no one had the time to ask
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