Help Me

Mac Dre & FREAKO & Rydah J. Klyde - Rap, Independent
Help Me
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Lyrics
[Verse 1: Mac Dre] Most of my brodies is ex cons and parolees Drink heem and OD's Roll twomps and goldies Get made from Goldie, 'cause Goldie the made man Don't fuck with blade men Go hard like cavemaen Ay man, I don't think you understand though I stalk the streets, with a Colt Commando A Thug and a vandal, a walkin' scandal Drink like ten fishes, smoke like candles Pistol grip handle on the riot 12 gauge Keep the rollers off me and out the jail cage Got a twelve page letter from my folks in the rally's He got caught up in a riot and they shipped him outta Cali Omaha, Texas, Leavenworth, Kansas They got us spread out, I don't know where my mans is But it's like this, I don't complain 'Cause I knew about the game when I hopped in the thang [Hook: Ephriam Galloway] Lord, can you hear me? Too many niggas dying Living Cutthoat but they trying Lord, you gots to help me I know sometimes they wrong Keep my niggas strong [Verse 2: FREAKO] Listen, I been walking the line Piercing the wire, stepping with my chin up Woke or sleep, my lids never shut Protected but rapists stay PC'd up Escorted by badges and handcuffs Billy clubs and face shields to storm your cell Search your locker, thirty days in lock up From reminiscing with my celly, pretending We daydreaming of flying, we high Eternal freedom, but we paid the price for living this life We cry inside, but only cold stares for the naked eye A young boy with mafia ties, so while inside The bricks and fences, got every tear stitched up With coke and black pinheads twisted in zigzags Watching time pass, 'cause I ain't got nothing but time Writing invisible lines on lined paper But being secluded made my rhymes greater So I stick to my music, song after song I might make a hit over the phone Hello? [Hook: Ephriam Galloway] Lord, can you hear me? Too many niggas dying Living Cutthoat but they trying Lord, you gots to help me I know sometimes they wrong Keep my niggas strong [Verse 3: Rydah J. Klyde] '92, '93, hit a lick, split a key Flossin' on chips and spit a clip, the game was fun to me It didn't take me long to see it wouldn't last though How else can my cash grow? Without the J team and task force coming to ask for me I'm moving too fast, homie I wish you would've got over the gate and I escaped with the cash, homie But I'll bust my gun to avoid the pen We was young lights when you went it But changed from boys to men, be home at 10 Do that, and come home, that ain't no place for a player Can't make no money, ain't no bitches in there, but life ain't fair But your world don't stop, you gotta keep keep on We pueblo no matter what street we on, the streets we roam That's why I ain't wrote you when in here But I'll see you when I see you If not, then when they lock the rider in Then tough love, one thug Issue a slug to that snitch nigga Finish where we left off, I'mma get rich nigga [Hook: Ephriam Galloway] Lord, can you hear me? Too many niggas dying Living Cutthoat but they trying Lord, you gots to help me I know sometimes they wrong Keep my niggas strong
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Credits
- Writers
- FREAKO
- Rydah J. Klyde
- Mac Dre