Shyne - For the Record [tekst, tłumaczenie i interpretacja piosenki]

Shyne
( for the record )

Where he at, where he at?
Uhh
(repeat 3x)

[Verse 1]
Do he rhyme with a slur from some shots in his face
Or he rhyme with a slur tryna sound like Ma$e
Listen to his tape, this lil' nigga used to sound like Case
Maybe I'm juss trippin, maybe he juss snitchin
See it a whole lot different from my cell in Clinton
What I see is straight bird, straight girl
Yea you be a killa, if you could kill with words
Gotta look at the facts and not the hype
Like who got shot and who got knifed
Who keep gettin struck, but don't never strike
Hope the beef go away when the feds indict
I know yo card nigga, it's so clear
You just wanna sell records you don't want warfare
You don't wanna ride you wanna get rich and hide
These niggas would've died if they shot me nine times
Hey it's just for the record
Take this mob shit serious, please respect it

[Hook]
And there go the shots they rip 'em apart
Gushes of blood comin' out of his lungs
It's murdah bloody homicide is what they cry
When they losin' their life
When muhfuckaz ax me how I sleep at night
Pretty good witta slug and my heat held tight
Pray to God when I'm gone, this what he felt like
Finish my work on this earth nigga turn off the lights

[Verse 2]
You ain't kill Hommo cause if you did
Why you ain't get the kid that ordered the hit
You know I know, that if you live
That shit that you spit, somebody got somebody
Somebody got jumped, somebody got cut
You a boxer nigga, nobody got snuffed
Nobody got crushed, you screamin what what
Okay killa you is the slut
Think about it, enough is enough
Time to show who is who
And what is what
I mean how can I respect you
When them niggas that left you ain't none of 'em blessed you
(not 1 body)
You know where they are, where they perform
Bust yo gun, stop makin songs
Please no more ghetto quran
You got money now it's time to bomb
And that's just for the time
Take this mob shit serious please respect it

And there go the shots they rip 'em apart (2x)
Gushes of blood comin' out of his lungs

[Verse 3]
Death of perfection as I move without motion
Ain't a nigga in this game do the shit that I'm quotin'
Good look you'll never see another me
Might be sum otha g's tryna trace n color me
But I believe in the ways of old
You slit a fools throat tryna tell on PO
Rats shouldn't exist, fuck a snitch
Cut of his dick, put it on his lips
You really think I was gon' let you slide
Fuckin wit me you must be out yo mind
You really think jail was gon' make thinks right
Nigga I'll hold shop till you lose yo life
I was mindin' my own, word got back, niggas talkin bout PO
I was like oh? God must be ready for this nigga to go
Gangland, this is the mob
You got yo break come finish the job
Juss don't get the feds involved
And I'mma reunite you with yo moms
Rip
I guess this ain't juss music
Cause jail only made me much mo' ruthless (nigga)
And the bitch nigga knew this
That's why he tried to sign me to g-unit
Tell 'em how you made me offers
( I don't run with that blood I'mma godfather)
Loved on every street corner
Hurts yo heart that you don't get that honor
The feds I paid for that
10 years up top
Not 7 months shop
Walked the yard with bloods
Took the bus with cuffs
Went gun for gun
I earned my love
You, you just pathetic
You'll neva be a G, despite yo efforts
Take this mob shit serious, you gon' respect it
Thats just fo the record

[Hook]
And there go the shots they rip 'em apart
Gushes of blood comin' out of his lungs
It's murdah bloody homicide is what they cry
When they losin' their life
When muhfuckaz ax me how I sleep at night
Pretty good witta slug and my heat held tight
Pray to God when I'm gone, is what he felt like
Finish my work on this earth and turn off the lights