Jay Rock - 50 Bars Of Real Shit [tekst, tłumaczenie i interpretacja piosenki]

[Intro]
Jay Rock, Watts Finest, Top Dawg Entertainment
Nigga finna spit 50 bars of real shit
Goes on in my hood, goes on in your hood too
Look I'm real sure

[Verse: Jay Rock]
Let me tell you all about Watts
Two-elevens, One-eighty-sevens, it don't stop
Shit ain't all great for your mama
On top carry lettuce workin' round the clock
You can't have your gat retired
Get caught slippin' and your life expired
Shit, growin' up, all I seen was drug dealin'
So I wanna live the life of a dope dealer
In the kitchen whippin' like Betty Crock
Sittin' in the spot with a gang of rocks
Clientele pumpin' now the spot is poppin'
Gotta shut it down, yeah them narcs is watchin'
Connect call the church said he got some Os
It might be tapped so we use them codes
Hit your high school just to bang the turf
Sockin' out shit, showin' off for hoes
Your girl know you out there makin' a grip
Hood rat bitches wanna sit on your dick
Now this nigga wanna fight you over a bitch
And they [?] his bitch out fuckin' for kids
Wonder why niggas lookin' at you funny
Cause you walkin' round with a lot of money
Nigga have the lights up [?]
Flossin' too hard so he got jacked
Niggas pull up on the side of him
And put about sixteen shots in him
Two witnesses saw the whole action
Police asked, but they don't know what happened
They know that snitchin' is a death wish
So they kept their mouth closed, they ain't said shit
They live by the code of the streets (what's that)
Never ever talk to police (that's right)
Gangstas on their way to a block party
Stopped at the store, gotta get Bacardi
Now they at the party all sauced up
Lookin' for dirty hoes to toss up
Some killers pull up in a Cutlass
Start bustin, and everybody duckin'
It's tragic when the guns stop spitting
Their lives, an innocent victim
And now he's wrapped up in plastic
His momma gotta shop for a casket
His homies don't know who did it
So they ride round town lettin' everybody feel it
Now another died on the other side
Killer Cali, land of the homicide
All we could do, was pray for them better days
Product of the streets, ghetto made us this way