Lyrics Lloyd Banks – Southside Story

Intro
Yea! Yea
I done learn from mistake like who’s my men and who’s not
Like who’s gone run and who’s not?

Chorus
In the streets of New York you can’t trust nobody
Nigga’s will run up on you wit a 12 gauge shorty
Loyalty comes free and smokin’ weed is my hobby
You wanna rob me your gonna leave here wit a body

Verse 1
When I was 10 years old I seen a nigga take 3 in the head
Probably around the same time he used to pee in the bed
I stay a wake cause my nightmares of seeing him dead
The smell of burnt tire after leaving him lead
The killer fled wit a fucking laugh
My heart pumping on blast I just stare at him slumped in the grass
Arms moving figure shaking spitting up blood
DNA mixed in the mud another ditch to be dug
There I stood stiffer than wood
See homie use to buy me candy
Now he’s gone whose provide his family
My ear ringing should have been runnin’
I never thought I could be that sick
Damn! I was suppose to see that sh*t
That’s when I thought it was more than 3 shots
He could have been aiming for me
Maybe he circled around the block

Chorus

Verse 2
It was a regular day in Southside
Sprink-aklers kids running all of a sudden
Heads turning somebody did somethin’
This nigga name I forgot
F**k it he lived around the block
Regular getting money nigga
But love to clown a lot
Walked across the park stuntin’ frontin’
Diamond in his ear diamond watch on
Eatin’ a bag of popcorn
Walked up behind this shorty grabbin’ her waist
She pushed him away so he threw the bag in her face
She felt disrespected shorty couldn’t except it
Called him a p**sy told him she be back in a second
He didn’t pay her no mind called her b**ch bout 4 times
Stayed in the park wit no niggas wit and no nine
Then in no time older nigga
From behind swung a baseball bat
Left his face all cracked told him take all that
Hit him again popped his chain wit a frown
Left the clown wit his stain on the ground

Chorus

Verse 3
Now all my days go by blowing that sticky icky
California made me picky chicken heads trying to stick me wit a hicky
If we go up quickly stick me
Somewhere tipsy the location don’t matter
I’m Southside to they hit me
I’d be dead it foots can kill
I’m from the ghetto boys
But I don’t know scarface
I’d push wit bill
My heart spills for the kids
That ain’t got nothing
They gotta steal and
For my cousin I lost
Slumped over the steering wheel

Chorus