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KLC
It was a long, long time ago
In the basement with no money but had talent to show
But the s**t wasn't right because the money was tight
But a mill and some street skills got me feelin tonight, right x2
Mr. Serv On
It all started in 92', just tight sounds there wasn't no beats by the pound
Just a little light skinned nigg* with light eyes and blacks
I'm trippin, this nigg* got a couple of g's worth of equipment and no
muth*fkin strap This nigg* gotta be somebody real
Cause in south east and it cost ya dc
Some nigg* be tightin up his muth*fkin grill
I'm seein shysty run in and out
Now I'm thinkin this must be a muth*fkin crack house
This nigg* say he like what I do, he see a little potential
Now I'm like nigg* what's up with you
All we had between us was hundred bars and ruffles
I know ya'll out there fkin laughing b*tch it was real
All we had to do was hustle
I told em nigg* do the music these bad times can't hold us
I did everything from credit cards to bad checks to bank tellers
Then we started dressin like goodfellas
Dressin in NBA teams uniforms everyday of the week
This nigg* still doing fire music
and I'm pushin ounces of weed on the street
But we still ridin dirty and this old lady Caddy nigg* one head light
fkin around the club, killing rumors, where die every night
But we ain't trippin, we ain't got s**t to lose
Cause if I kill a nigg* fk it, our s**t gon sell
I know we got on Serv-On we on the news
Yeah that's what we talkin bout.
All you gotta do is catch one of your b*tch as* slippin.
When I blast at that b*tch that they talk with.
KLC
Chorus x2
Mr. Serv On
So now I got my tape dubbed, we gotta do something
This nigg* KL got two daughters and he workin on a muth*fkin son
Til we dead we ain't got no nigg* to put g's up
Sleepy wanna lend a hand but the people fkin with him
He got his hands tied up
s**t, all we got between us nigg*
is enough money to get a kicken chicken plate
Me and these muth*fka's with child support are always in my face
I still wanna call Boogie and Tarret,
but them got problems of they own
nigg* they kill they homies time to leave they pistols on em
I'm from 6th and Berome, I ain't off the way
But like Booty, Bozo, Cujo, QB, Mo, Vito, and T-Roy
They treat my like I'm they home boy
Now this nigg* O-boy may he rest in peace
Talkin bout some jack the rapper s**t
fk it, we doing bad plus this s**t free
Now we three deep in the course, with a pack in the spare tire
I hope these Alabama police don't stop us cuz we hot like fire
I think about all the we done left behind
But fk it nigg*, I gotta go for mine
I don't know what I'm gonna do, I gotta go for mine
nigg*, MC Dart.
That's like the tightest muth*fka ya'll never heard of nigg*.
Ya'll never heard of.
KLC
Chorus x2
Mr. Serv On
Now we at the Mariott Marquis with no passes
Not for long, nigg* I'm from New Orleans b*tch we whoop asses
I p*ssy as* label no name giving heard our demo
Try to beat us with hoes and limos, fk em I don't miss em
Now we in the lobby watchin Death Row and Ruthless Records fightin
Tearin s**t up, and right in the middle like when I was young
That nigg* P ran up with C-Murder with pistols in hand
Askin what's up nigg* ya'll straight
s**t I remember a little group, now they platinum
I could keep a secret now I'm gon make my escape
P said nigg* let's eat at this breakfast place
nigg* told me about No Limit and took my demo
Gave us two hundreds dollars a peice and pay for the s**t we ordered to eat
Now we back home still struglin
I got a pistol with two bullets
One for me and one for the nigg* that fkin with me, I'm thuggin
I done beat some out for some paper
KL got tax problems, don't trust me when we in the money caper
Now P back home lookin for some for some Down South Hustlers s**t
I'm lettin club rumors and I'm like dogg take me out this b*tch
He ask me if am I trippin on Chris, nigg* fk that b*tch hit me bustin
But I can't leave without KL
Now we on the plane with me and the rest ain't hard to tell nigg*
We made it
KLC
Chorus x2