ScHoolboy Q - Cycle lyrics | LyricsFreak
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Cycle Lyrics

ScHoolboy Q – Cycle Lyrics

Hood on, shoot till they drop nigga
We'll be waiting for you 'round the corner nigga

[Verse 1]
Only 12 and a half and already ducking them jabs
Fighting back, just hoping that he last, he on his ass
Huffing and puffing, getting tagged
See what this nigga feel, would only make them niggas laugh
He felt the discomfort, ain't trust them right away
Saw the devil in they eyes, his homie looking straight
But something was different in him, not the same from yesterday, shit
His whole demeanor changed, even his smile was strange, his childhood
Never came, but dude was always gutter, he got it from his brother
From his brother from his brother, brought pain onto his mother
Once was elementary homies but now we attack each other
Shit set love aside, took his pride, shit he had to ride
Threw on his hood and then he fired
Fired and fired, fired and fired, the tires screech
Spirit of up out of reach, a young nigga's swallowing yeast
Trapped in the belly of the beast, sheesh

I know niggas, that kill niggas, that kill niggas, that kill niggas, that kill niggas
The cycle continues, the cycle continues (Kill nigga, Kill nigga)

[Verse 2]
He only 17, his homies was his motive
He only 17, his momma never noticed
Too busy paying bills, tryna provide a meal
Pay the rent and steal, her child live for a thrill
Fulfill his niggas wishes, no more hugs and kisses
No more "How you been," no more tucking in
He with them other men, poppa never came
So his cousin dem would pretend, imitating if they was him
Got the pistol on him, loaded, loaded off of gin
Feels like niggas on him, so he look for them
First nigga wrong hat? Blam-blam to him
Paranoia kills, kill or be killed
Let alone all them thugs, let alone all them drugs
Treat his kind like a bud, let's see how karma does
Let's see how much he loves, shoot him up, shoot him up, bam-bam


[Verse 3]
This nigga 21, he feel like he the man
This nigga 21, his mom said "be a man"
Love to sag his pants, pistol in his hand
Feel he too advanced, him slipping out his chance
Think he at his best, he hit the set he making orders
Got them little niggas busting shots and flipping quarters
An ounce, a half, double up, shit what you order
Even dimes, think with a corrupted mind
Adapted to them crimes, living with regrets
In order to survive, gotta get high
Cautious with time, paranoia hard through his body
Trying love for a hobby, you know gangsters come with kids
Teaching them wasn't his
EBT the corner store, he go fill up the fridge
Approached by a little nigga, hoodie over his lid, looking down a barrel
Of a burner tucked, aimed at his wig, let him fire, then he fire


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