Smif-n-Wessun - Home Sweet Home [tekst, tłumaczenie i interpretacja piosenki]

[Tek]
This is the story of a place, that we call home
Where the kids pack heat when it's time to roam
Everybody's on a scramble, life's a gamble
Hoppin on the white horse, tryin to get a handle
On the fast pace that we call the last race
Step wit precaution when you enter this place
We got a spot on every block to make ya dreams come true
Just come correct wit the snaps is all ya do
Don't come cryin broke, still tryin to cop the dope
What parts of no, do not you understand bro?
We can't afford to take shorts or be playing sports
Empires need to be built, mack 10's bought
Or even caught from them deceased ass hustlers
And we still got the pound for y'all living muthafuckas
What goes around comes back to the roots
See you at the revolution in Crooklyn, troop

[Hook]
We live in Brooklyn baby
We try to make it baby
We gonna make it baby
We live in Brooklyn baby

[Steele]
Another day, another dollar dead
Pigs rushin the crib to catch a collar now I'm fed
What I face now, me and my peoples taste ground
Stayin face down, while K-9 sniffs around
What they found was irrelevant to we cuz
They was sent to represent and cause a ruckus amongst us
Now I got more pigs rushin we, handcuffin me
Takin hold of we, into custody
For questioning bout some boy restin in peace
After going through the bullshit, we get released
And hit the streets, where the war still on for all of y'all
Cuz they kept Rule locked behind the wall
No time at all to fake no jacks
Perhaps when the gat spin, niggas won't even know what happened
I'll be glad when my man come home
Gettin his own, muthafuckas grab ya chrome

[Hook (with Tek shoutin out)]

[Tek]
Da eyes read time as lead treads spine
Currency change hands, from yours to mine
Greenbacks talk, bullshit floats on water
Pager goin off, call comin from headquarters
I was told if the secret code appears
It means some bwoy want dead, prepare for warfare

[Steele]
Fuck the truce, we bringin the noose for your loose talk
So think smart, or rest in parts if ya do start
I fucks wit, the poor so fuck being rich
Word is bond there's a muthafuckin war goin on
Stand strong, on your own two, mista
Or come confront the grim ripper
Black hoodie on, black dusty fatigues
Bloody red eyes from puffin on the black weeds
He lurks in the shadow so when you sleep in the battle
That'll be a tale you won't live to tattle

[Tek]
Salute, to each and every hood, label, troop
Doin what you gotta do to bring in the loot
Huh, the time has come for armageddion
Give nurture to your seeds, and load up ya guns, dunn
I'm catchin vibes, that somethin ain't right
Gettin little hints, stomach feelin uptight
Damn, these little nappy head g-tre bastards
Runnin' 'round town wit the cronz trynna blast shit
Ain't nothin sweet like the dark streets of Bedstuy
Creep through population, endin up in C.I

[Steele]
Take a ride through the Flatbush side
See the dread in the court for support, hit we off wit the lye
Now slide, through the 'Ville, sev' flo', say hello
To the fam then stick to K.I.M. as planned
Toward the east, something's goin on
So burn the buds, and all my people in Medina stay strong

[Hook to fade]