Back to the previous page

Artist: Murs
Album:  Captain California
Song:   Summer
Typed by: 

Six niggaz in a G ride
Squadded up, headed to the East side
They try to clown cause we from West L.A.
Them niggaz think we bougie and we just for play
Got a AK, and a .38
Lower-Middle class niggaz movin up the murder rate
The other day they was talkin real big
Caught me slippin up the West field with my kid
At the bus stop, with my baby's mom
Tried to keep it cool, said I didn't want no problem
They took off on me anyway
All I had was my hands and some pepper spray
My lady and my son had to run away
They should've killed me but I lived to fight another day
I know where they stay, I know where they be
Your best friend is your enemy's enemy
We pulled up, got the drop on 'em
Them bitch niggaz went and called the cops on us
We got pulled over 'bout a block away
They snatched the big homie, and took his AK

[Chorus 2X: Murs]
I can't wait 'til the summer come
The big homie get another gun
Muh'fuckers thought that they wanted some?
Now we the niggaz that they runnin from

Deuce-deuce in the chrome 4-5
These niggaz talkin peace but the beef won't die
You could find me in that chair, put the needle to my arm
'fore I ever let another man do me harm
Cause I remember, when they said they was comin for us
We kicked back and waited all summer for it
Them niggaz had they chance
And now the big homie home and yep, we got plans
And I ain't talkin 'bout no summer vacation
I'm talkin 'bout fuckin off my probation
I ain't talkin 'bout Disneyland
I'm talkin eight of us deep in a mini-van
No volleyball, sun tans or surfboards
Just a bunch of niggaz dead from a turf war
That's how my best friend missed his first tour
Cause we act like our lives ain't worth more