CORRECTAR LA LETRA
Letra : Story To Tell (Biggie Tribute) Flow
One-two, one-two, one-two, one-two
R.I.P. to B.I.G
CJ, I told you I'd do one for you
I'll tell a story and the whole nine yards
I just hate it had to be like this
Listen up
Listen up, I got this story to tell
I'm from the southwest where the streets gory as hell
My mama watchin' too much Family Feud, Maury as well
My cousin in jail, I swear to God, Jacorey need bail
Again, but he don't ever listen though
He a blood now, but I swear he was a crip before
He obsessed with tellin' me how he be gettin' dough
And how them girls look at him like he up under some mistletoe
Quid pro quo in latin means somethin' for somethin'
I guess that's what we got when we brought him back stumblin'
To the crib, fresh off of lock from the county
The doctor said he took his pills, must have miscounted
'Cause thirty minutes after he was at the crib
My sister hit me up, said, "Guess what this dummy just did"
I said, "What?" She said, "Hold up" and then her signal faded
Sidenote, T-Mobile, all your plans is overrated
I waited, waited, got slightly irritated
Almost hung up, then she came back on, finished the statement
She said, "Tobe, daddy left him by hisself
He found the keys and grabbed them hoes up off the shelf
He stole the car a-a-and guess what else?"
I said, "What? He robbed a bank?" She said, "You dumb as hell
No, boy, that requires a plan of action
Boy, Jacorey barely know how to multiply fractions
This lil' dummy left the neighborhood, got in a accident
Ain't have no license or insurance, certified African"
Old lady that he hit got out the car
As she approached, that boy dipped, no disregard
You would think okay that's it, he took the whip and parked
Contraire mon frère, that there was just the start
He swung hard in the neighborhood exit
The boulevard was 'bout to be left with
A stealer that should've called it quits like Byron Leftwich
Plus he was epic for having the worst drivin' in Texas
Straight up dyslexic, been taught a message by drivin' suave
Two minutes into the subdivision, hit a garage
Don't even understand how that's possible, word to God
This boy needed three hundred slaps, word to Gerard
Butler and every soldier up in Sparta
Tryin' to move upward, I hate when dummies make it harder
Him say him hustler, boy, shut up, you still ride the Marta
He the type to think he ballin' 'cause he shop at Zara
Sayonara to the home he destroyed
The car was workin' fine, he left it unemployed
Police station down the road had officers deployed
Of course, they pulled up on the scene highly annoyed
To see a lil' idiot joggin' away
About two hundred yards from where the vehicle lay
They pulled up on him askin' questions like, "Where do you stay?"
He told them he was doin' his jog for the day
Look, real talk, they probably would have let him go
If he ain't have a Coogi outfit on from head to toe
They asked him 'bout the car he crashed, he said, "Man, I don't know"
Then they detain him 'cause he said, "The driver might be close"
They said, "Where?" He gave 'em the address to the crib
He told the laws Uncle Joe so he could dodge a bid
My pops hit the scene p*ssed, tried to split his wig
Then he confessed, now he probably in county gettin' slid
Look, only 'cause in prison they ain't for the mumblin'
I tried to teach him that, he prefer to be fumblin'
Through the pages of his life when his daddy had left
He thinks his pops is comin' back, told him don't hold your breath
He got deported, list of reasons, was an a**ortment
He was bipolar, could care less about the law enforcement
Told him take his pills, he said, "Hell nah, I can't afford it"
Then they caught him, sent him back, now his son is in orbit
Ouu, I know, story is horrid
But it's all perspective, we selective on things we see gorgeous
I think my uncle even kind of distorted the fortress
Within the kin it ain't support if the support ain't supportive
Look, that means he wasn't really there
I mean he drove a cab, but never really paid the fare
For all his indecision, was in and out of prison
Fifteen years he been missin', so did he really care?
Hmm, look, you be the judge
Every month, Jacorey got to see a judge
Probably 'cause his pops ain't help him readjust
That's enough
Man, listen. If you ain't there to teach yo' kids then somebody else gon' teach yo' kids. They just gon' fall victim to whatever it is that's around 'em. I just really hope I could paint that picture. So shoutout to CJ. R.I.P. to B.I.G. This is really just a responsibility piece
R.I.P. to B.I.G
CJ, I told you I'd do one for you
I'll tell a story and the whole nine yards
I just hate it had to be like this
Listen up
Listen up, I got this story to tell
I'm from the southwest where the streets gory as hell
My mama watchin' too much Family Feud, Maury as well
My cousin in jail, I swear to God, Jacorey need bail
Again, but he don't ever listen though
He a blood now, but I swear he was a crip before
He obsessed with tellin' me how he be gettin' dough
And how them girls look at him like he up under some mistletoe
Quid pro quo in latin means somethin' for somethin'
I guess that's what we got when we brought him back stumblin'
To the crib, fresh off of lock from the county
The doctor said he took his pills, must have miscounted
'Cause thirty minutes after he was at the crib
My sister hit me up, said, "Guess what this dummy just did"
I said, "What?" She said, "Hold up" and then her signal faded
Sidenote, T-Mobile, all your plans is overrated
I waited, waited, got slightly irritated
Almost hung up, then she came back on, finished the statement
She said, "Tobe, daddy left him by hisself
He found the keys and grabbed them hoes up off the shelf
He stole the car a-a-and guess what else?"
I said, "What? He robbed a bank?" She said, "You dumb as hell
No, boy, that requires a plan of action
Boy, Jacorey barely know how to multiply fractions
This lil' dummy left the neighborhood, got in a accident
Ain't have no license or insurance, certified African"
Old lady that he hit got out the car
As she approached, that boy dipped, no disregard
You would think okay that's it, he took the whip and parked
Contraire mon frère, that there was just the start
He swung hard in the neighborhood exit
The boulevard was 'bout to be left with
A stealer that should've called it quits like Byron Leftwich
Plus he was epic for having the worst drivin' in Texas
Straight up dyslexic, been taught a message by drivin' suave
Two minutes into the subdivision, hit a garage
Don't even understand how that's possible, word to God
This boy needed three hundred slaps, word to Gerard
Butler and every soldier up in Sparta
Tryin' to move upward, I hate when dummies make it harder
Him say him hustler, boy, shut up, you still ride the Marta
He the type to think he ballin' 'cause he shop at Zara
Sayonara to the home he destroyed
The car was workin' fine, he left it unemployed
Police station down the road had officers deployed
Of course, they pulled up on the scene highly annoyed
To see a lil' idiot joggin' away
About two hundred yards from where the vehicle lay
They pulled up on him askin' questions like, "Where do you stay?"
He told them he was doin' his jog for the day
Look, real talk, they probably would have let him go
If he ain't have a Coogi outfit on from head to toe
They asked him 'bout the car he crashed, he said, "Man, I don't know"
Then they detain him 'cause he said, "The driver might be close"
They said, "Where?" He gave 'em the address to the crib
He told the laws Uncle Joe so he could dodge a bid
My pops hit the scene p*ssed, tried to split his wig
Then he confessed, now he probably in county gettin' slid
Look, only 'cause in prison they ain't for the mumblin'
I tried to teach him that, he prefer to be fumblin'
Through the pages of his life when his daddy had left
He thinks his pops is comin' back, told him don't hold your breath
He got deported, list of reasons, was an a**ortment
He was bipolar, could care less about the law enforcement
Told him take his pills, he said, "Hell nah, I can't afford it"
Then they caught him, sent him back, now his son is in orbit
Ouu, I know, story is horrid
But it's all perspective, we selective on things we see gorgeous
I think my uncle even kind of distorted the fortress
Within the kin it ain't support if the support ain't supportive
Look, that means he wasn't really there
I mean he drove a cab, but never really paid the fare
For all his indecision, was in and out of prison
Fifteen years he been missin', so did he really care?
Hmm, look, you be the judge
Every month, Jacorey got to see a judge
Probably 'cause his pops ain't help him readjust
That's enough
Man, listen. If you ain't there to teach yo' kids then somebody else gon' teach yo' kids. They just gon' fall victim to whatever it is that's around 'em. I just really hope I could paint that picture. So shoutout to CJ. R.I.P. to B.I.G. This is really just a responsibility piece
