corrija a letra Letra Love Da Corner por Mistah F.a.b.

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Don't shoot him in the street

Uh, comin' up we was poor, bruh
Bein' broke ain't no fun
In the dark, ain't no sun
So we hit the block, we was on one
Livin' life how I wanta
High speeds we was runnin' from the rollers
Neighborhoods stars, yeah, everybody knows us
Young niggas infatuated by bein' on the corner

Havin' dreams about my lost homie
I still can't believe they killed Frost on me
Mama said "It take a lotta cost to be the boss, homie"
It ain't no love for all those suckas, man, that crossed on me
Watch me do my wiggle, I'm gonna make it to the tin-nop
Remember when they laughed 'cause they thought that I fli-nopped
Still got the money in the shoe box
Never fall off, regardless of, man, what you thought
And I ain't got one dime for you bops
Remember when my mama used to do rocks
And daddy used to shoot hop
Man, I was just a shorty doo-wop
Wearin' Coasters from Payless, with the matchin' tube socks
The jungle I was from, boy, you had to be a brave heart
And please don't tell nobody I got these from K-Mart
Yeah, we went to Ross for the khakis
And used to switch tags on LaCosta just to match 'em

Uh, yeah I was raised where the Gs at
Gutter, the same houses where the roaches and the fleas at
Where the Top Ramen, Cup-a-Noodles and the cheese at
The government cheese, felt like them folks freezed that
Cops and robbers boy, we was playin' freeze tag
In the same park where the winos and the fiends at
Broken-broken bottles of 8-ball and King Cobra
I'm from the hood, I ain't never seen a fiend sober
Started hustlin' 'cause I was tryin' to get my team over
Mature, yeah, fifteen years old, but I seemed older
Exposed to the streets at an early age
Brother made the news, Oakland Tribune, front page
Mama tryin' to shield me from the street life
Said I "Had to be in the house before the street lights"
The whoopins didn't work 'cause I was hangin' late
Fifteen years old, just a gangin' mane

Fresh off the phone with my bruh, hope they releasin' him
Mama said "He institutionalized, ain't no need to leave"
Little boy died in the street, with no decency
Cover that baby's eyes, there's some things he don't need to see
Streets'll strip your innocence, no wonder why we're cold hearted
Yellow bus riders, them little niggas retarded
And it don't make no sense how the whole funk started
Both sides done lost lives, rest in peace to the departed
I was posted on Market
They said I was a target
But I was tryin' to eat, I was focused on the harvest
At the dice game chasin' cheese, 'cause nigga, I was starvin'
Raised by the OGs, Big P and Marvin
Tuffy, Half-Chopper, Mike Fee and Manny-Bo
Fortieth and Market, rest in peace my brother Danny though
Came a long way from playin' throw-up tackle
And spiked drinks at the house party, throwed up after

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