Yeah! Another funky song for your mind in the nine-two
And the nine-three, P-Dog in the motherfuckin' house!
Bout to get it started
Bout to get it started, live and direct from the underground
Still sayin' what I want to say, and I ain't gon' never change

Oh what a shame, the way that we're dyin' up
Killi'n ourselves with no help from the other one
Only thought, was how the hell to get your money on
Livin in fear cause you're livin' in a war zone
So much funk, jump off from a wrong look
Make a wrong move one time and your life's took
Just the way it is when you're livin' in the city
The way we dyin' off is a motherfuckin' pity
Extra, extra, read all about it
Another one dead, he seen a bullet and he caught it
How many gotta fall off victim to the game
Or being a ho, to the cocaine thang
Makin' a rush up, to keep 'em comin' back again
You oughta know by now it ain't no love for African
People stay enslaved to the ways of America I'm scarin' ya
But I ain't goin out like that, so think about it now

[Chorus]
"Yeah, yeah, yeah, yeah" "Young brothers just don't realize"
Yeah, think about it
"Yeah, yeah, yeah, yeah" "Young brothers just don't realize"
Think about it
"Yeah, yeah, yeah, yeah" "Young brothers just don't realize"
Uhh, think about it

People keep comin' up, askin' the news
They want to know, why I do what I do
It's really kinda simple, so don't be amazed
It ain't no secret it's the way I was raised
Got much props from my pops cause he never stops
Bein a father to his child, he cared a lot
Raised me up, and told me like this:
You better stand up for yours or be dissed
Be a man, and do for yourself
Better love your own befo' anyone else
It ain't nothin' in the big city but a small thang
To see a brother straight fall victim to the game
Somethin' that I roll with straight from the start
In a city where a fool and his money soon part
Where brothers might die over anything at all
I can't call it but I know you better watch your step
And think about it now

"Yeah, yeah, yeah, yeah" "Ay nigga what you need?"
"Yeah, yeah, yeah, yeah" "I got five ten, what?"
"Yeah five ten fifteen twenty. I heard they got fifty."
"Yeah, yeah, yeah, yeah" "Ay nigga what? Ay nigga where you from?"
"Get that motherfucker! Get that ol' nigga!"
"Yeah, yeah, yeah, yeah"
"Move man! Move!"
"Freeze motherfucker freeze! Get your god damn hands in the air!"
"Oh shit. Oh shit! Oh shit. Oh shit. Oh Shit."
"The jury, having found you guilty, twenty-five years."

And now there's one last thing, I think we need to talk about
It might save your life and you die if you do without
Pokin' in the puddin' mean you better wrap tight
Tragic to Magic my soap in your eye
And now you better straighten up, and straighten up fast
Relyin' on the guts and the luck of the last
'Cause the fool was in with the skins shoulda never been
In with the skins no cap for the lap get waxed
Now, who growin' up next?
Ready for the sex better check with the latex
So many trapped and set for the funk
Who take they life for a joke so I say wait a minute
Genocide from the suicide of dippin' inside
Everybody die when the legs spread ride
Gave to the sons of the slave and it's man-made
AIDS and you're off to your grave, think about it now

[Chorus: x2]
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Thinka 'bout It Lyrics

Paris – Thinka 'bout It Lyrics