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Raised in Hell
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C Bo
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featuring Big Syke
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Verse One: C Bo
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I was born in hell without a pistol
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Now how can I survive with one live without a vest and 4 5?
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Runnin from the Task Fo' but smashin for my cash
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Bankin corners hop it then I blast on their ass
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See them piggies want me dead for sure or in the pen
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doin 10 instead of me in my Benz on some twins
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Sippin Hen smokin indica bomb
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and keep my pedal to the metal til I'm high and gone
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I know you rich niggas hate me, can I keep it real and feel this rap shit?
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Didn't make me, got out the pen and flip the '97
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drop Mercedes, I'm the *?placenta?* of no love
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Til the lord save me, straight thugs that'll dump slugs
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til they fuckin grave, mass murder motherfuckers to the front page
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When we hit, we empty clips til we get paid
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I've been a slave from my cradle to the grave
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Nigga, fuck the world, I was raised in hell
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Chorus: C-Bo
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That's why we buck shit down and yell "Fuck the world!"
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I'd rather die here in hell then die doin life in jail
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But take the shot with a Mac 12, order hits on the *?pack tailed?*
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>From the block to Wotts, we are thug niggas raised in hell
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*repeat*
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Verse Two: Big Syke
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I'm bailin thru the set wit a 40, smokin a cigarette
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Blastin my radio, oldie tunes by The Marvalettes
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Gangbangin vets on parole as I stroll thru
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They rassle Gz like two craps and they strapped too
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Oh how I love these niggas but I hate em with a passion
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But I ride for these motherfuckers, when I don't even ask
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Thug fashion from head to toe, I let the world know
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that this is Thug Life, motherfucker, til I leave this ho
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So as my knuckles drag the concrete, big homies hit the streets
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Transgressions under pressure, preyin on the weak
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I sink like a fish, I wish upon a ghetto star
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If the enemies come thru and ride on me they won't get far
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Big homey got out, hold 22's on a hang
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Runnin around, sweatin motherfuckers, talkin bout "Let's throw them thangs"
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Bang, I hit him with a bat and heard his skull crack
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Then I got *?him the wind in the trach?* til he shattered, to get the Mac
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Chorus
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Verse Three: C-Bo
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It ain't no love for bitch niggas
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as I dump slugs and pull the plug on you bitch niggas
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Pick up my phone and have some thugs hit you trick niggas
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wit on gloves or low tommy guns on them stitch niggas
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Hit niggas with H-K's, split niggas with AK's when we mash for the cash
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Doin a hundred, blastin buck shots off in that ass
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True outlaws ready for war, souls will never die
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The same day we meet death, the same day we ride
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Dumpin slugs with Tek 9's, more bulletproofs my 4-5
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I just let em fly, screamin out "Bitch nigga die"
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We's about be a killer nigga, look outside
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Tell me one reason why I should pray for eternal life
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Born and taught in hell, with a gun store on every corner
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Bodyguard, bulletproof doors, it's hard to be a goner
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Strapped with heat, these West Coast streets of Killafornia
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From day one, they have straps on em, cos we was raised in hell
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Chorus
C-Bo - Murder That He Ritt - Tales From ...
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