L.A. Raiders Hat
Back in the days when I was a teenager
Before there was "Mictlan" before I had haters
(Fuck em')
You can find Mike in a hat that said "Raiders"
(Right)
Pops used to say "Stop dressing like them gangsters"
That never left it always stayed with me
So I stayed alone I strayed from home
I bond to make amends where the pages bend
Out run the outcome Son strong wind tunnel
Down pour when the droughts done
Build me up to break me down
Divvy up Hate Me Now
82 to 8-outs to 80thou'
Baby steps pay me pounds
I'll wash my hands and walk away
Clean Money, Team Hungry, Dirty Style
The Ghetto is cold all that glitter ain't gold
They say you're better at home
You (I) need to get on the road
That's where my heart's at
It's either dead or it's gone
Never let it get old
Walking Young Corpse
With a Veteran's Souls
Cuz My Strife
Is all I have
And yeah This Life
Is all I got
And if I do right
Then it ain't my bad
But if I do wrong
I hope I get what I got coming
And I put that all behind me
As in behind the scenes
Where nobody else can find me
Fuck That! A Mexi-can can't sell?
Don't sign me!!
This Independent Hustle pays off
So we keep grinding
But they say us Chicanos are too political
They'd rather see us in Lowriders
Acting stereotypical
Don't get me wrong
I've been on the block in Low-Lows
Watching Po-Po's taking photos
Of tattoos off Cholos
Ain't nothing glamorous
Seeing your people treated like animals
The Ghetto is not Fabulous
In Los Angeles the cops are in on it
Cocaine and Trafficking Immigrants
Through the Mexican Border
But they can't deport all of us
Swimming through dirty water
Those "wet-backs" ain't citizens
Till they come with 16 years of labor dividends
I was always a "spic" wiping my face clean from spit
Smile when I'm pissed
Then cleaning the blood off my fist
Before there was "Mictlan" before I had haters
(Fuck em')
You can find Mike in a hat that said "Raiders"
(Right)
Pops used to say "Stop dressing like them gangsters"
That never left it always stayed with me
So I stayed alone I strayed from home
I bond to make amends where the pages bend
Out run the outcome Son strong wind tunnel
Down pour when the droughts done
Build me up to break me down
Divvy up Hate Me Now
82 to 8-outs to 80thou'
Baby steps pay me pounds
I'll wash my hands and walk away
Clean Money, Team Hungry, Dirty Style
The Ghetto is cold all that glitter ain't gold
They say you're better at home
You (I) need to get on the road
That's where my heart's at
It's either dead or it's gone
Never let it get old
Walking Young Corpse
With a Veteran's Souls
Cuz My Strife
Is all I have
And yeah This Life
Is all I got
And if I do right
Then it ain't my bad
But if I do wrong
I hope I get what I got coming
And I put that all behind me
As in behind the scenes
Where nobody else can find me
Fuck That! A Mexi-can can't sell?
Don't sign me!!
This Independent Hustle pays off
So we keep grinding
But they say us Chicanos are too political
They'd rather see us in Lowriders
Acting stereotypical
Don't get me wrong
I've been on the block in Low-Lows
Watching Po-Po's taking photos
Of tattoos off Cholos
Ain't nothing glamorous
Seeing your people treated like animals
The Ghetto is not Fabulous
In Los Angeles the cops are in on it
Cocaine and Trafficking Immigrants
Through the Mexican Border
But they can't deport all of us
Swimming through dirty water
Those "wet-backs" ain't citizens
Till they come with 16 years of labor dividends
I was always a "spic" wiping my face clean from spit
Smile when I'm pissed
Then cleaning the blood off my fist
Credits
Writer(s): Michael Marquez
Lyrics powered by www.musixmatch.com
Link
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