Slaine - Mistaken Identity | Текст песни

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• Slaine
• Mistaken Identity

Yo turn this up in your whip. Slaine and Static Select on this shit. Push the seat back and turn the system up. True story. Pay attention to the details.

[Scratching]

Thinking about the robbery last week
Hey you world, wanna hear a story?
This is the tale of lost innocence
Stickup kids that’s out for cash

[Verse 1]

I live in these streets daily so when I write em
You can picture these stories supposedly
Were seperated by some six degrees
Weather you’s as thick as thieves, junkies eating Mickey D’s
Cooking dope in a spoon, rolling up their frickin’ sleeves
Like Bobby with the burnt out eyes
Bruised up veins, lack-luster charm, rotted arms, and used up game
Dopesick and sticking old ladies at ATM’s
With wrinkled skin for eyelids, threw punches and caved them in
They had bad habits, badder teens turned stickup kids
Turned needle-shooters, turned erratic fiends
And now it seems Bobby’s doing b and e he’s breaking and entering
Taking what’s tempting and hopping fences till his ankles are bent again
Race for the hotbox, stolen ‘caine and X-Box, a couple games
A couple lames in the front seat swerving lanes
Flipping middle fingers at suburban dames
Driving by whose pussies got wet filled with nerve is shamed
Back to Southie, hopped out the car
Then ran their mouths like the fucking dope fiends they are

[Scratching]

I need loot so I’m doing what I do
Junkies in the alley with the baseball bat
He’s coming up short cause he snorts coke, dope, nope
I hope he don’t get caught

[Verse 2]

Word on the street it spread to this kid named Ed
Whose crib got robbed for X-Box, cocaine, and his bread
The block is always watching, it’s just the same as the feds
But the streets is always fast to put a name with a head
It’s easier to kill a junkie when he lays in his bed
But it’s hard to find a snake when the skin he stays in is shed
And he leaves his corner, stays inside the Days Inn instead
Gets locked up in the Bay adding the days in his head
Ed rolled over to Southie with a knife like a faggot
Looking for Bobby who committed the robbery, he’s trying to stab it
He got a habit for murder, he wanna kill him slow
He stole some shit out his wife’s room he’s gonna kill him yo
A grey Infinity rolls five-deep up our street
He holds the blade inside his hand tightly till their eyes meet
Before he stabbed him in the abdomen he screams the wrong name
Thought it was Bobby, he punctured his lungs with the long shank
Jumped into his whip, peddle to the floor with his friends
Thinking justice is sweet when it ends with revenge
Only problem is Bobby wasn’t the dude screaming “Jesus”
Bleeding in the street, it was Timmy with the same features
He worked for the Boys Club, no drugs, no thugs
Now he’s slumped in the street choking on his own blood
It’s mistaken identity

[Scratching]

You know the evil that men do, hell is where the men go
And the game won’t change, it’s the same old thing

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