Scarface - Homies and Thuggs [tekst, tłumaczenie i interpretacja piosenki]

[Verse 1: Scarface]
Ghetto niggas remain violent while the killers remain silent
Niggas strapped with 45's and ain't smiling
And I'm driving to a place they're all warrin'
The lake we build houses but its the hood we call home
In the ghetto the only place a motherfucker will keep it real
We focused on the dollar bill, still
The outsiders tend to disrespect the place
Where niggas do they struggling die with a straight face
Surviving, under conditions demons died in
You can run it but can't hide it so step aside
Its the nigga that makes music for the streets
Cause I love this motherfucker like pussy with no sheets
Cause its deep
Some niggas make it out the neighborhood and won't surface
And let the money make them nervous, what's the purpose?
A motherfucker sitting on fat
Who done came up in the hood but he can't come back
Fuck that, I remain in the street game frame
On a mission to maintain me and take aim
In position to let my opposition know my life
Cause off in these streets I keep it real but what's right?
Surviving, sitting on a key doing business on a beeper
I'm sinking in this motherfucker deeper
Fear the reaper that no man born or woman harm me
Fuck being a nigga in your army; though I'm a killer
Enter the ghetto so that you can see
What I mean when I say I love this cause it loves me
Let it be, stop looking at this motherfucker strange
And talking 'bout a motherfucking change
This is for my thug niggas

[Chorus: Master P]
This one for the homies and the thug niggas (uuuuugh)
This one for the homies and the thug niggas (uuuuugh)
This one for the homies and the thug niggas (uuuuugh)
This one for the homies and the thug niggas (uuuuugh)
This one for the homies and the thug niggas (uuuuugh)
This one for the homies and the thug niggas

[Verse 2: Master P]
'Face, imagine us working at McDonald's
To me and you, selling fucking, tapes to the Bahamas
Gold slug, a car full of thug niggas
Twenty inch wheels candy paint so we drug dealers
No Limit soldiers to the fullest
See I was raised on red beans the size of some bullets, huh
We ghetto niggas can't be stopped
Got me mixing up dope with little J down at Rap-A-Lot
My phone tapped the feds on my tail
Got me paying luxury taxes on everything I build
True to the ghetto that's my life
You see that house on the lake its for the kids and the wife
You can test me if you wanna
Cause I be dumping niggas off from New Orleans to California
Rowdy like a hurricane (uuuuuugh)
Independent, black owned got 'em hooked on this cocaine
You used to see CEO’s in suits and ties
But we young niggas in tennis shoes and diamonds
Executive street millionaires
Niggas gonna be bout it bout till we gray in the wheel chair

(Chorus: Master P]
This one for the homies and the thug niggas (uuuuugh)
This one for the homies and the thug niggas (uuuuugh)
This one for the homies and the thug niggas (uuuuugh)
This one for the homies and the thug niggas (uuuuugh)
This one for the homies and the thug niggas (uuuuugh)
This one for the homies and the thug niggas

[Verse 3: 2Pac]
What do you get from boosting?
Niggas coming out to California, and represent them niggas from
Houston
And now 2Pac ll keep this shit popping
And all my niggas across the Bay, know L.A., keep the shit hot
I keep a Glock inside my pants , don't give Locaz a chance
Put me inside a casket, you dirty bastards
Until the day I die, you catch a nigga high off weed, the police can't
Find me
My shit will drop and I'll sell five million
While all the niggas enter the game, they caught up in drug dealing
Now how can I fall? how can I ball, how can I catch my enemies and murder 'em all?
My words of flame, burn niggas inside their brain
Niggas can't hang with me, and nuttin's changes, uh
Scarface got me on this shit
We lace heat, motherfuckers in they body and face, uh
Growing thicker, liquor, maybe ya daddy a nigga
Niggas don't wanna see me worldwide, mob figure
M.O.B., Hennessy keep me g'd and
Keyed niggas, don’t wanna see me, when I got weed, in my system
Catch another victim, capture bodies
Bring a shottie to the fucking party, yeah
I party all night
I do this shit cause its wrong but we born right
And to these niggas in my zone, we do it long ways
'till these bitches understand nigga my song pays; cause I'm the man
Now these are my homeboys, we outlaws till the day we die
Keep this shit, rough and raw
My 45, make sho', that I survived, to another day
Just bust rhymes, and brothers get paid
Now that's the end, of my freestyle, but it was left for dead
Buy the shit, and you can hear it playing, West Side!

[Chorus: Master P]
This one for the homies and the thug niggas (uuuuugh)
This one for the homies and the thug niggas (uuuuugh)
This one for the homies and the thug niggas (uuuuugh)
This one for the homies and the thug niggas (uuuuugh)
This one for the homies and the thug niggas (uuuuugh)
This one for the homies and the thug niggas