Tried By 12 – East Flatbush Project – letras

Don’t say sticks and stonesThey might break your bonesBut the nine millimeter, it’ll bore your domeI’m talkin about the toe-tagginHuh, the body-bagginMan, niggas are dyin, huh, mommas are cryin, casket buyinWho, me dyin, leave my family cryin?Hell no, I cause, um, bloodbaths and showersSend me commissary, motherf**k them flowersThoughts of slaughter, of leaving my daughtersHours and hours of fears running through my mindAs I pick up the Zig 9Beef starts with the shove and ends with the shovelAnd niggas standing on your corner reminiscing of youBut your ass is out and you’re dead and goneSo who’d you rather be?The murdered, or the murderer?Niggas got me stressed – I got my Tek and my vestAnd I sing who Jah bless, let no man curseOr one of us will leave here tonight in a hearseFor we’ll be tried by 12And fertilizing daisiesCrying mommas and cousins and crying babiesDue to the fact that death is a mustAshes to ashes and dust to dustNiggas getting bustFor in God we trustSo if you’re comin to my town and try to slow the dough downYou must be casket-boundCause I’d rather be tried by 12 than carried by 6NiggaI sign my name on the book at your funeralThe Zig’s on my hip with an extra clipCause I’d rather be tried by 12 than carried by 6La-di-da-diSaturday night and we like to partyThe punks are f**king around so we might catch a bodyEarly Sunday morning, don’t really wanna hurt nobodySo what they tryin to get?I already got itChump motherf**kers just a-schemin on my sh*tBut little do they know I got the Zig on my hip with an extra clipAnd I’d rather be tried by 12 than carried by 6Aw sh*t – murder commitAnd there goes another statistic runnin’ through ballisticThe witness say I’m wickedBut that’s how I kick itCause I’ll be the bastard who blasts and didn’t get blastedBoy kiss dem casketI cut your wig back kidSucker, look who diedBody will be identifiedMomma and poppa will cry, b*tch-ass man says he’ll testifyTo see me tried, but here’s I slide (?)Upon the same corner that you didAnd I’m still facing a bidCause I’d rather be tried by 12 than carried by 6NiggaI sign my name at the book at your funeralThe Zig’s on my hip with an extra clipCause I’d rather be tried by 12 than carried by 6