Once Upon A Time In The Projects - Edited
Once upon a time in the projects, yo
I damn near had to wreck a hoe
I knocked on the door, "Who is it?"
It's Ice Cube, come to pay a little visit to ya
And what's up with them brothers in the parking lot
She called 'em suckas, 'cause they smoke crack a lot
I sat on the couch, but it wasn't stable
And then I put my Nikes on the coffee table
Her brother came in, he's into gang bangin'
'Cause he walked up and said "What set you claimin'?"
I don't bang, I write the good rhymes
The whole scenery reminded me of Good Times
I don't like to feel that I'm put in a rut
By a young punk, that needs to pull his pants up
He threw up his set, then he was gone
I'm thinkin' to myself, won't this girl bring her butt on?
Her mother came in with a joint in her mouth
And fired up the sess, it was sess no doubt
She said, "Please excuse my house", and all that
I said "yeah," 'cause I was buzzed from the contact
Lookin' at a jacked-up black and white
Her mom's fussin' 'cause the county check wasn't right
She had another brother that was three years old
That had a bad case of the runny nose
He asked me who I was, then I had to pause
It smelled like he took a dump in his little drawers
I saw her sister, who really needs her butt kicked
Only thirteen, and already pregnant
I grabbed my forty out the bag, and took a swig
'Cause I was getting overwhelmed, by BeBe Kids
They was runnin' and yellin' and playin' and cussin' and tellin'
And look at this young punk bailin'
I heard a knock on the door without the password
And her moms got the twelve gauge Mossberg
The brother said "Yo, what's for sale?"
And her moms came out with a bag of yayo
She made the drop, and got the twenty dollars
From a smoked-out fool with ring around the collar
The girl I was waitin' for came out
I said, "Girl, I didn't know this was a crack house"
I grabbed my coat, and suddenly
"Stop, the police, don't move! Freeze! Or I'll kill ya!"
The cop busted in I had a Mac-10 pointed at my dome
And I said to myself, "Once again, it's on"
He threw me on the carpet, and wasn't cuttin' no slack
Jumped on my head and put his knee in my back
First he tried to wrap me up, slap me up, rough me up
They couldn't do it so they cuffed me up
I said, "damn, how much abuse can a brotha take"
'Ey yo officer, you're making a big mistake
Since I had on a shirt that said I was dope
He thought I was selling base and couldn't hear my case
He said, "get out my face" and musta had a grudge
His reply, "tell that sad story to the judge"
The girl I was wit' wasn't sayin' nothin'
I said "'Ey Miss Thang you better tell him somethin'"
She started draggin' and all of a sudden
We all got tossed in a paddy wagon
Now I beat the rap, but that ain't the point
I had a warrant, so I spent two weeks in the joint
Now the story you heard has one little object
Don't get wit' a girl from the projects
Yo man, them projects ain't no joke Loc, I'm tellin' you
Especially the ones in Watts and South Central L.A. boy
Don't mess around those projects
The rats will get with your punk brown
Yeah, you know it
I wanna say what's up to my boy Sir Jinx for hookin' up the track
You know what I'm sayin'?
This goes out to the Lench Mob
We'll be lynchin'
I damn near had to wreck a hoe
I knocked on the door, "Who is it?"
It's Ice Cube, come to pay a little visit to ya
And what's up with them brothers in the parking lot
She called 'em suckas, 'cause they smoke crack a lot
I sat on the couch, but it wasn't stable
And then I put my Nikes on the coffee table
Her brother came in, he's into gang bangin'
'Cause he walked up and said "What set you claimin'?"
I don't bang, I write the good rhymes
The whole scenery reminded me of Good Times
I don't like to feel that I'm put in a rut
By a young punk, that needs to pull his pants up
He threw up his set, then he was gone
I'm thinkin' to myself, won't this girl bring her butt on?
Her mother came in with a joint in her mouth
And fired up the sess, it was sess no doubt
She said, "Please excuse my house", and all that
I said "yeah," 'cause I was buzzed from the contact
Lookin' at a jacked-up black and white
Her mom's fussin' 'cause the county check wasn't right
She had another brother that was three years old
That had a bad case of the runny nose
He asked me who I was, then I had to pause
It smelled like he took a dump in his little drawers
I saw her sister, who really needs her butt kicked
Only thirteen, and already pregnant
I grabbed my forty out the bag, and took a swig
'Cause I was getting overwhelmed, by BeBe Kids
They was runnin' and yellin' and playin' and cussin' and tellin'
And look at this young punk bailin'
I heard a knock on the door without the password
And her moms got the twelve gauge Mossberg
The brother said "Yo, what's for sale?"
And her moms came out with a bag of yayo
She made the drop, and got the twenty dollars
From a smoked-out fool with ring around the collar
The girl I was waitin' for came out
I said, "Girl, I didn't know this was a crack house"
I grabbed my coat, and suddenly
"Stop, the police, don't move! Freeze! Or I'll kill ya!"
The cop busted in I had a Mac-10 pointed at my dome
And I said to myself, "Once again, it's on"
He threw me on the carpet, and wasn't cuttin' no slack
Jumped on my head and put his knee in my back
First he tried to wrap me up, slap me up, rough me up
They couldn't do it so they cuffed me up
I said, "damn, how much abuse can a brotha take"
'Ey yo officer, you're making a big mistake
Since I had on a shirt that said I was dope
He thought I was selling base and couldn't hear my case
He said, "get out my face" and musta had a grudge
His reply, "tell that sad story to the judge"
The girl I was wit' wasn't sayin' nothin'
I said "'Ey Miss Thang you better tell him somethin'"
She started draggin' and all of a sudden
We all got tossed in a paddy wagon
Now I beat the rap, but that ain't the point
I had a warrant, so I spent two weeks in the joint
Now the story you heard has one little object
Don't get wit' a girl from the projects
Yo man, them projects ain't no joke Loc, I'm tellin' you
Especially the ones in Watts and South Central L.A. boy
Don't mess around those projects
The rats will get with your punk brown
Yeah, you know it
I wanna say what's up to my boy Sir Jinx for hookin' up the track
You know what I'm sayin'?
This goes out to the Lench Mob
We'll be lynchin'
Credits
Writer(s): O'shea Jackson, Ricardo Thomas, Quincy Delight Iii Jones
Lyrics powered by www.musixmatch.com
Link
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