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Family Tree Lyrics

from Art Of War

"Family Tree" is track #8 on the album Art Of War. It was written by Mccord, Kevin Duane / Henderson, Anthony / Howse, Steven / Mccane, Bryon / Scruggs, Charles.
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"Family Tree" is track #8 on the album Art Of War. It was written by Mccord, Kevin Duane / Henderson, Anthony / Howse, Steven / Mccane, Bryon / Scruggs, Charles.
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Krayzie:
Yeah, come on, come on, come on. This is my family. This is my family,
my family.
Layzie:
Lord, help make up my mind. Which way do I turn, when there's so much
stress surroundin' me daily? This world's so cruel
and shady, and I really do miss my baby, Babi Boi. Oh, boy, me and
your bigger brother, we keeps it realer. You'll always be
our little nigga, and I know your mama miss ya. Picture the day, when
I get my callin', but until then, I guess I'm stuck. Oh,
fuck. Let T know I miss him much. When I get to heaven, Babi Boi,
what's up? We can ride and roll, I know, without those
po-po trailin', bailin' all the way to heaven, bet you that's a
promise. Comin' with the bombs [bombs]. Niggas can't test us.
Creep, defeat is on you, (bleed). Rollin' with the niggas that pack
the heat and a sack of weed, straight outta control, testin'
souls, hoes, niggaroes, playa haters, and the po-pos as well. If we
could (?) everybody (?), am I livin' in Hell? Nigga really
can't tell, so I prepare for the worst, and hope for the best, and the
rest is written. Some wanna treat me like I'm forbidden, but
I'm just lookin' for the shit that's hidden. Could I be? Come a little
bit closer, why you cautious when you approach us? Is
you scared of the fact we soldiers? Mo Thug Records fin to take shit
over. Under my halo, pray more, say Mo Thug with love
to the depth that game goes. Die all of you hoes, foes, and you
po-pos. Nigga, better roll or get rolled over. We shuttin' shit
down. And you know a nigga love to get buckwild. Pow. Come fuck with
me, now, now, now.
Krayzie:
This is my family. This is my family, my family.
Bizzy:
Thug lovesick, my hood is in drug prison. The end is my mission, we
heatin' shit. Why vision? Be crooked, (?) and sin is
beginnin' of my endin'. I went in my Benz, but why's my mind spinnin'?
And then I'll say, "Hey, fuck 'em. My family ain't livin'
for nothin'. We strugglin' was one of the reasons I'm thuggin' and
steady stay hustlin'." Where was my lovin'? Somebody tell
me somethin', was it nothin'. If I give you all of my trust will you
fuck it all up for the love of lust? Hoes, I loves you so,
but unlike my friend, you're just my foe. Peace 'til the end of the
road. That's where I'll go. But no, nigga, don't lose your soul,
but it's so cold. Trust in mine, all right, then we can roll, roll,
roll.
Krayzie:
This is my family. This is my family, my family.
Wish:
Was ya too young, mama and daddy, when you laid down and had some
(eggs)? And I remember y'all breakin' up, and
shippin' us off back to the Land. Damn, what went wrong? Was it me?
But I ain't mad at ya, 'cause outta all this shit, I got 2
sisters and a brother, and I learned to harmony on the streets of the
Clair, that's where I'm from, y'all, on the streets of the
Clair, that's where I met Mo Thugs, y'all. Oh, shit! Time to be a man.
Gotta get out the house, 'cause I stand Mommy's
man--he talks with his hand. Come, come creep on the streets with me:
this where I learned how to sell drugs, it's where I
learned how to pump slugs. It's necessary, necessary for me to get
down for mine, so I creep and I grind, knock, knock,
kickin' down doors, kill a nigga, sleep, give it up when you die. And
I know that shit was wrong, but don't blame me, blame
the thugsta in me, 'cause that's where that shit comes from [comes
from]. Bloody redrum. Nigga, we nothin' but survivors.
Rest in peace to the gauge, they collide with us. We survivors, that's
why we be . . .
Krayzie:
This is my family. This is my family, my family.
Krayzie:
Get ready to duck, bitch, or get fucked up, boy, don't fuck around,
and get zipped in a body bag off in a grave, and your
brains'll be hangin'. Damaged bodies dragged off. Everyday we see more
niggas hatin', fakin', playa hation--that's gettin'
contagious. Why do these niggas think they can break us? When I grab
my pump, y'all niggas better try to grab what's left of
your chest. Niggas be talkin' and then they get caught up in shit. Now
meet them faces of death. We never be talkin', and
they dogged us, man. It's all the same, but what do we gain by giving
you niggas fame? So we let the records show. The
forty-four mag'll tag 'em, stack up them niggas who try to compete
with platinum. All of them callin' me, follow me down to me
corner, slip up and your gonna get blasted. What do you wanna test me
for? Jealousy? Nigga, drop. Nigga, we bet you
plottin', that's why them triggers be cocked everytime. Shoot 'em 99
times out of 100. We gon' hit somebody. Somebody
gon' take a (?) yeah. Y'all know he gets carried off with the bodies.
Mo (mileage) y'all find us smokin' that grass. Nigga, pass
the pump. Hey, Rip, he takin' a loss, and wakin' up in that coffin.
Oh, nigga, that's why all of these playa hate us, man, but
when we come, they run, but we're gonna catch 'em, and one day God
forgive me, I don't know what got in me, but pin me,
they're gonna all fall down, way down, face down. Ain't got nothin'
but love, still niggas wanna test my nuts, and nigga you
know that [that, that, that, you know we didn't know that, that,
that], so nigga you know that [that, that, that] them thugstas
niggas [I figured you'd know that, that, that, that] stay strapped
[strapped], won't hestitate [you niggas should know that, that,
that, that] to bust back [yeah, yeah, yeah, my niggas you know that .
. .] It's nineteen ninety-nine. It's almost nineteen
ninety-nine.
[Gunshot.]

Songwriters
MCCORD, KEVIN DUANE / HENDERSON, ANTHONY / HOWSE, STEVEN / MCCANE, BRYON / SCRUGGS, CHARLES

Published by
Lyrics © Universal Music Publishing Group