Представляем точный текст композиции "My Diary" и глубже погружаем в смыслы творчества артиста Jim Jones . Эта интерпретация слов песни помогает лучше понять смысл заложенный в композицию. Лирика «My Diary» — это не просто строчки, а история, которую Jim Jones передаёт через ритм и интонации. Изучайте переводы, оригинальные версии и толкования, чтобы раскрыть все грани этого трека.
Jim Jones - "My Diary"
Lyrics to My Diary : (feat. Denise Weeks) Pardon the Syzzrup... [Jim Jones] Now we try corners Old folks try and warn us The cops try and swarm us Blocks hot like saunas Well fuck it Ima risk it Got a bunt nigga twist it Imma get drunk with my biscuit 5 cent cup, take a sip kid Imma product of the p-jects My teachers always told me that Id prolly be a reject I came up by my lonely now Im a product of that D-Set Two twelvin with my homie, he caught a homy of that d-wreck He said it had him zonin left the body in bulding three steps The project now on fire every where you see the detects His high is coming down cause now hes nervous smokin bogeys And now he findin out that fuckin murder was his co-D And this the shit that happens all too often up in Harlem No shit you smell a rat you better off him whats the problem In this business sellin crack we cook that raw shit up to hard shit And tell my fellas that and to my coffin steady mobbin to my coffin steady mobbin [Chorus: Denise Weeks] Take a look into my eyes and youll see all the pain the ghetto brings Take a journey through my soul and lets roll through the streets of reality They tell me slow down Im livin life fast See they dont all wanna ride with me I know it aint right but this is my life Its just a piece of my diary yeah [Jim Jones] Now, we ran wreckless, no grown-ups to guide us So its the man what you expect, Ive grown-up to violence I had my eye up on the pushers, the ones that stay fly Fiends got high off the suga, you know that aint riiight That sweet cane, some got buried to the street game My niggaz only worried bout the jewelry and the street fame And what the bitches thought of them, its all about the money Well shit I cop some Porsche or trucks Member I was hungry, I was whippin in the Corsica Hoopty muthafucka, hoppin the double fours My pants droopy muthafuckas And pardon my grammar, my nana died 95 So I done left my heart wit my grandma I hid outside and played the park wit the hammer And Im watchin for the narcs, they movin cars with antennas Thug and respect, for all my goons behind bars in the slammas To my Gs on rikers, to all my three time lifers [Chorus] [Bridge - 2X] This is my life we die young cause we livin fast So Ima let you read my diary Ima let you read my dairy [Jim Jones] Now lets ride (to where), to Harlem, the Westside I show you blocks and murals, dawg where some of the best died (Like who...like who') Like Porter and them I heard Po put the order on him, now thats more than a friend! But he stitched of course, now lets talk about Fritz the boss And he got rich off snort, they said 500 bricks was brought So in hindsight, its a shorty who couldnt get a gist of his thought But if you grind right wit the snorpy, a whip could be bought Now think about po-9, if it caught me, how it get you in court But now the feds, they still tailin me, DA think he nailin me I had to turn in the goons come and post the bail for me Still in the Byrd Gang myself, you say Byrd Gang is wealth And all the liquor stores, man the Syzzurp on the shelf I rose from the dump you see, now its Dipset, Byrd Gang the company [Chorus] [Bridge 2X] [ My Diary Lyrics ]
Содержание трека помогает не только запомнить любимые строки, но и ощутить связь с Jim Jones. Возможно, вы заметите, как лирика «My Diary» перекликается с вашим опытом, или найдёте ответы на давние вопросы. Эта страница создана для ценителей музыки: здесь вы сохраните текст для личного использования, поделитесь им с друзьями или используете в творчестве. Погружайтесь в мир слов композиции «My Diary» — каждая строчка здесь обретает новый смысл.