Текст песни: All My Shootings Be Drivebys + перевод

I’m rolling through the hood on a Saturday night

Got a 40 in my left hand, my dick in my right

Some chronic in my lap, a pager in my cap

And a 9 millimeter in the small of my back

I’m just chilling no place to be

I take another pull off my 40 z

I’m thinking 'bout spinning a fat ass tree

A B to the L to the U-N-T

Then I get a call on my dope cell phone

Check the caller ID, what up homes?

Yo, it’s the Doom and his news ain’t good:

(Little Pookie got capped last night in the hood.)

I feel like the world is fading away

I saw Little Pookie just the other day

Pookie was my boy we shared Kool-aid in the park

Now some punks took his life in the dark

I ask Doomsday who the motherfuckers be

(Some punk-ass bitches from MIT.)

The fucking Institute, man I should’ve known

I say meet me at my crib and hang up the phone

Playtime’s over, I got a job to do

And the world will be less crowded by the time I’m through

And I’ll keep rolling while bullets fly

Cause all my shootings be drivebys

One minute to midnight we hit the street

Cold as a cadaver, hard as concrete

Doomsday’s packing a baby Mac

Got my AK-47 and the nine in my back

The Alpine’s glowing, P.E.'s flowing

Got my swerve on tight and my game face showing

Them damn punks are gonna pay

The Hawk’s on the case, a bird of prey

Then up ahead cold chilling in the street

Six motherfuckers from MIT

I flick off the safety, check my grip

And load a dum-dum clip

I glance at the Doom to make sure he’s packed

His finger’s on the trigger of his baby Mac

Time to give a Newtonian demonstration

Of a bullet, its mass, and its acceleration

Nine on my lap AK in my hand

I roll up slow like a snake in the sand

I wait till I’m sure they can see my face

Then I bust out slugs to the beat of the bass

The streets sketched out in the full moon light

MIT punks dying left and right

There’s nowhere to run don’t even try

Cause all my shootings be drivebys

Then silence hits the street like a bomb

An eerie calm like the eye of storm

Beneath the glow of an old street light

Dead MIT punks be the only sight

6 motherfuckers no longer alive

And Pookie’s been avenged 1 for 1 plus 5

And we’ll be long gone 'fore the cops arrive

Cause all my shootin’s be drivebys

Ah yeah! I’m busting more shit than an incontinent man at a chili cook-off!

The moral of the story is: don’t fuck with the Hawkman, cause the Hawkman

ain’t down with that eye for an eye bullshit. Fuck that! You take an eye and

I’ll take your motherfucking head!

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