Skin It Back (Live at Lisner Auditorium, Washington, DC, 8/8/1977)

歌詞

(Trae) Back at it again, and I feel like I'm in my prime Fuck rhymes, I'ma wreck this motherfucker for Dinkie doing time Slow Loud And Bangin' for life, niggaz know it's understood How the fuck niggaz think they down, and they ain't even from the hood Too many niggaz in my section, so I had to make a change Plus niggaz be disrespecting, so I had to take my aim It ain't no friends inside this game, niggaz switching like the drop of a dolla So catch the fuck you out my window, as I flip my Impala Dogging the road, plus even on mo' got niggaz in shame And they can't touch me in the '84 Range, I'm raw and untamed See Trae is self explanatory, and my attitude show it On the way to fuck up they career, nine times out of ten niggaz know it So gon get ready for the crown, to be announced to my team If you don't think we hard, then watch this Nina Ross with this beam We back at it, automatic static for you niggaz who hating Who say they really wanna do me, bring it on cause I'm waiting (Hook: Billy Cook) They telling me, that we ain't gon make it this time They telling me, that S.L.A.B. don't hustle and grind We back again, to prove you niggaz wrong this time Mistakes have been made, niggaz know that you crossed that line (Jay'Ton) Before you hate up on the S.L.A.B., get your weight up bitch So move around bitch nigga, 'fore I empty my slip I'm a young guerilla in these streets, trying to make me a profit Six figgas ain't enough, cause I done had that shit in my pocket A nigga G'd up, Boss chunking them C's up Jay'Ton up in this bitch, with the T-O-P up Swanging down the block with my heat cocked, for them cops when I set up shop Ain't no way in hell, that I'ma stop When it was sad cause I'm ahead of my time, plus I'm head of the line See the heated 3-80, pointed dead at your spine 30 karats round my neck, cause I'm head of my shine Now the click come again, to put it dead on your mind (Hook) (Boss) Back at it again, Boss done grabbed his pad and his pen Cutting corners cocking the Coupe, with automatic again Lacing my stars in the morning, creasing my rag in the den Khakis sagging under my ass, I'm fin to drag em again Niggaz ain't never seen the corrupted rebel, riding in progress Set me up a corner, full of hustlers and watch it process I'm fifty two hundred deep, when I'm dipping on the solo Swooping up in the low-low, 17 slugs for the po-po It's Slow Loud And Bangin', tearing the top off your microphone Blacks gloves and black ski masks, when I'm in my sniper zone I did this for my niggaz, doing time in a cell Putting they foot in niggaz asses, dropping dimes in the jail This for my C'd and my B'd niggaz, over to my B-D niggaz Fo' Tre's and ITC's, my TTP niggaz Boss gon floss for the house, with a Nina Ross Keep my pockets full of green, and my hand full of green mounts (Hook)