Things Done Changed Lyrics

[Verse One:]

Remember back in the days, when niggaz had waves
Gazelle shades, and corn braids
Pitchin pennies, honies had the high top jellies
Shootin skelly, motherf**kers was all friendly
Loungin at the barbeques, drinkin brews
with the neighborhood crews, hangin on the avenues
Turn your pagers, to nineteen ninety three
Niggaz is gettin smoked G, believe me
Talk slick, you get your neck slit quick
Cause real street niggaz ain't havin that shit
Totin techs for rep, smokin blunts in the project
hallways, shootin dice all day
Wait for niggaz to step up on some fightin shit
We get hype and shit and start lifin shit
So step away with your fist fight ways
Motherf**ker this ain't back in the days, but you don't hear me though

[Verse Two:]

No more cocoa leave-io, one two three
One two three, all of this to me, is a mystery
I hear you motherf**kers talk about it
But I stay seein bodies with the motherf**kin chalk around it
And I'm down with the shit too
For the stupid motherf**kers wanna try to use Kung-Fu
Instead of a Mac-10 he tried scrappin
Slugs in his back and, that's what the f**k happens
when you sleep on the street
Little motherf**kers with heat, want ta leave a nigga six feet deep
And we comin to the wake
To make sure the cryin and commotion ain't a motherf**kin fake
Back in the days, our parents used to take care of us
Look at em now, they even f**kin scared of us
Callin the city for help because they can't maintain
Damn, shit done changed

[Verse Three:]

If I wasn't in the rap game
I'd probably have a key knee deep in the crack game
Because the streets is a short stop
Either you're slingin crack rock or you got a wicked jumpshot
Shit, it's hard being young from the slums
eatin five cent gums not knowin where your meals comin from
And now the shit's gettin crazier and major
Kids younger than me, they got the Sky grand Pagers
Goin outta town, blowin up
Six months later all the dead bodies showin up
It make me wanna grab the nine and the shottie
But I gotta go identify the body
Damn, what happened to the summertime cookouts?
Everytime I turn around a nigga gettin took out
Shit, my momma got cancer in her breast
Don't ask me why I'm motherf**kin stressed, things done changed

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Songwriter(s): Dominic Richard Owen, Christopher Wallace, Kevin Delance Scott, Dominique Owens
Publisher(s): Next Class Music, Big Poppa Music, Warner/Chappell Music Ltd., Emi April Music Inc., Justin Combs Publishing Company Inc.
Record Label(s): 2004 Bad Boy Records LLC for the United States and WEA International Inc for the world excluding the United States, South America and Central America
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