Tommy
(feat. Allah Real, Angie Neil, Bald Head, Eyeslow)
[Intro: movie sample]
Set it here, set it here
What is this, boy, what's the deal here
What's the deal here?
Come on with it, come on with it, speak up
Speak up, you better be cool, suckas
You better be cool
You don't know who I am, do you, chump?
I'm the death to you, boy
To you, and you, and you, better remember now
What goes around, comes around
I'm coming here, don't fuck me with now
You'll be dead
[Intro: Eyeslow (Allah Real)
Yo, Tommy what you doing out here, man?
(Our little Tommy is thugging)
You only 13, man, you should be in the crib, man
You know if your brother was here, man
(Selling drugs and he's buggin')
You know what they do to you, man
Word, I'll let him know, Jamaica, Queens
(Our little Tommy is thugging)
When we get smoked out, we just be buggin'
Knowhatimsayin', check it
(Our little Tommy is thugging)
Yo, yo, yo
[Eyeslow]
Aiyo, I'm looking for that Dolly Parton
So I skeet right on the salad garden
Key up her ignition, after, whippin' it, I'm valet parking
Fine gray buddha, now we sparking
Fingers cob webbin', cop weave through four Jamaican's bobsledding
I'm top ranked with the bank, it's no more stolen cars
Fightin' over tuna cans and living off granola bars
I put my work in like the Older Gods
And gotta mob with status, Martin Lawrence
Made it word, to rob and har'ass
And my hood is villain blocks, niggaz killin' cops
Cops killin' niggaz, dirty chicks and penicillen shots
I'm sick of seeing bitches lyin' with a straight face
Friendly orgy turning into Kobe Bryant's rape case
My block is where the drama take place
Fightin' mocassen, dippin' from Johnny Depp and Ali Robinson
21 Jump Street jake, NYPD license plates
I ripe with grapes, pipe the eighth, but only if my life's at stake
Yo, I'm trynna get my cash established
Three-two, Eyes -
[Angie Neil]
Tommy
[Bald Head]
Little Tommy got his hands on a gun, he only 13
Smoking weed, running from thugs that's like 33
He try'nna grow through fads, it ain't cool
Cuttin' school, at a hooky party, feelin' on ass
Til some hatin' cats came in, Tommy started grippin'
Dude looked him up and down, and Tommy got offended
Shots rang up, everybody run and rappin'
Little do they know, Tommy love gun clappin'
The kid bounce before he even got hit
Messed up when shorty got caught, between that shit
Now, who gonna tell honey moms how she cut school
At a hooky school with girlfriends and wild dudes
Who gonna talk to the cop, who gettin' locked for it?
Tommy fled the scene, before somebody else saw him
He ran fast, down Fulton Ave., tossin' his gun
Thinkin' to himself; 'What the fuck I've done'
[Chorus x2: Angie Neil]
Tommy, Tommy
Tommy, Tommy
Tommy, Tommy, Tommy
Tommy, Tommy, Tommy
[Bald Head]
His pops left when he was young, brother got locked up
In the car chase, cause somebody got shot up
A prime example of a man in your life
A little dude like to fight for what's wrong, and not right
Livin' life, it ain't life no more, homicide outside
Lookin' in, about to knock on his door
And little Tommy in a jam now, he going out
Deja vu, but he seen what his brother would do
So he flew out the back, on the run for the rest of his life
Somebody told, he did it that same night
A news flash, girl shot dead, her family sad
And little Tommy couldn't live with that, he'd rather die
Commited suicide, blew his brains out, his moms cried
Only son left, took his last breath, closed his eyes now
He on the other side, feeling good, talk to the God
Understanding why he had it so hard
[Interlude: Angie Neil (Allah Real) {Bald Head}]
Tommy is buggin', oh yeah
Tommy is thuggin'
Tommy hisself, Tommy hisself
(Said he thugged and he bugged)
Tommy is buggin', Tommy is buggin'
(Drugs... did that)
Tommy, Tommy, Tommy, Tommy
Tommy, Tommy, Tommy, Tommy
Tom, Tom, Tom, Tom, Tommy
{Brooklyn, nigga, yo Mathematics
They ain't understanding, man
This is real serious, word haha
It's a lot of little Tommy's all over the US ghetto
You know what I mean? I mean these young dudes
Really don't know, man, I think the TV
Manipulate they minds man, they raising our kids
Man, too many of them, we gotta control it, word
And this what happens when you can't control it}
(Tommy...)
[Intro: movie sample]
Set it here, set it here
What is this, boy, what's the deal here
What's the deal here?
Come on with it, come on with it, speak up
Speak up, you better be cool, suckas
You better be cool
You don't know who I am, do you, chump?
I'm the death to you, boy
To you, and you, and you, better remember now
What goes around, comes around
I'm coming here, don't fuck me with now
You'll be dead
[Intro: Eyeslow (Allah Real)
Yo, Tommy what you doing out here, man?
(Our little Tommy is thugging)
You only 13, man, you should be in the crib, man
You know if your brother was here, man
(Selling drugs and he's buggin')
You know what they do to you, man
Word, I'll let him know, Jamaica, Queens
(Our little Tommy is thugging)
When we get smoked out, we just be buggin'
Knowhatimsayin', check it
(Our little Tommy is thugging)
Yo, yo, yo
[Eyeslow]
Aiyo, I'm looking for that Dolly Parton
So I skeet right on the salad garden
Key up her ignition, after, whippin' it, I'm valet parking
Fine gray buddha, now we sparking
Fingers cob webbin', cop weave through four Jamaican's bobsledding
I'm top ranked with the bank, it's no more stolen cars
Fightin' over tuna cans and living off granola bars
I put my work in like the Older Gods
And gotta mob with status, Martin Lawrence
Made it word, to rob and har'ass
And my hood is villain blocks, niggaz killin' cops
Cops killin' niggaz, dirty chicks and penicillen shots
I'm sick of seeing bitches lyin' with a straight face
Friendly orgy turning into Kobe Bryant's rape case
My block is where the drama take place
Fightin' mocassen, dippin' from Johnny Depp and Ali Robinson
21 Jump Street jake, NYPD license plates
I ripe with grapes, pipe the eighth, but only if my life's at stake
Yo, I'm trynna get my cash established
Three-two, Eyes -
[Angie Neil]
Tommy
[Bald Head]
Little Tommy got his hands on a gun, he only 13
Smoking weed, running from thugs that's like 33
He try'nna grow through fads, it ain't cool
Cuttin' school, at a hooky party, feelin' on ass
Til some hatin' cats came in, Tommy started grippin'
Dude looked him up and down, and Tommy got offended
Shots rang up, everybody run and rappin'
Little do they know, Tommy love gun clappin'
The kid bounce before he even got hit
Messed up when shorty got caught, between that shit
Now, who gonna tell honey moms how she cut school
At a hooky school with girlfriends and wild dudes
Who gonna talk to the cop, who gettin' locked for it?
Tommy fled the scene, before somebody else saw him
He ran fast, down Fulton Ave., tossin' his gun
Thinkin' to himself; 'What the fuck I've done'
[Chorus x2: Angie Neil]
Tommy, Tommy
Tommy, Tommy
Tommy, Tommy, Tommy
Tommy, Tommy, Tommy
[Bald Head]
His pops left when he was young, brother got locked up
In the car chase, cause somebody got shot up
A prime example of a man in your life
A little dude like to fight for what's wrong, and not right
Livin' life, it ain't life no more, homicide outside
Lookin' in, about to knock on his door
And little Tommy in a jam now, he going out
Deja vu, but he seen what his brother would do
So he flew out the back, on the run for the rest of his life
Somebody told, he did it that same night
A news flash, girl shot dead, her family sad
And little Tommy couldn't live with that, he'd rather die
Commited suicide, blew his brains out, his moms cried
Only son left, took his last breath, closed his eyes now
He on the other side, feeling good, talk to the God
Understanding why he had it so hard
[Interlude: Angie Neil (Allah Real) {Bald Head}]
Tommy is buggin', oh yeah
Tommy is thuggin'
Tommy hisself, Tommy hisself
(Said he thugged and he bugged)
Tommy is buggin', Tommy is buggin'
(Drugs... did that)
Tommy, Tommy, Tommy, Tommy
Tommy, Tommy, Tommy, Tommy
Tom, Tom, Tom, Tom, Tommy
{Brooklyn, nigga, yo Mathematics
They ain't understanding, man
This is real serious, word haha
It's a lot of little Tommy's all over the US ghetto
You know what I mean? I mean these young dudes
Really don't know, man, I think the TV
Manipulate they minds man, they raising our kids
Man, too many of them, we gotta control it, word
And this what happens when you can't control it}
(Tommy...)
Credits
Writer(s): Peter Townshend
Lyrics powered by www.musixmatch.com
Link
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