Lyrics
Holdin' it down for the good and bad times
On the low from the pole when you couldn’t stash your nine
It was, junior high, we was new to high
Different class, pinching ass, watching time slide by Side by side, rider to rider
Until I got my record deal and you said I got sour
But, with every second, minute and hour
I see niggas backwords, respect, money and power
Like, good lord, could it be the Porsche?
That got my best friend jealous and want to come and shoot up my porch
I give him handshakes and hugs
He give me mean mugs
Like «fuck that nigga Buckshot that nigga a bum»
Ain’t none of that when I come around though
A nigga will give you a pound for a pound of smoke
Shit, snake in the grass and all that though
Come up fast get cut for some cash flow, nigga
Well I keep holdin' on to yesterday
I keep holdin' on, enough to say
That it’s wrong
Thinking of a master plan
Cause ain’t nothing but sweat inside my hand
Quote from the God Rakim Allah
I see what he saw
Plus I know what Kane felt when he said, «I get raw»
Shit changed, when you tryin' make these papers
Like when Biz Mark made «The Vapors»
Chuck said it take a nation of millions to hold us back
So we grind for these chips 'till we gripping a thicker stack
You can get with this or you can get with that
These black sheep’s ready to stick niggas or flip a pack
Sitting back listening to G rap
Feeling «Ill Street blues» while grippin my new gat
I’m like KRS criminal mind
Ride 'till I die or lay in solitary confinement
Rest in peace Justo
By his death, I’m reminded
Don’t be thinking shits sweet when you see niggas rhyming
Well I keep holdin' on to yesterday
I keep holdin' on, enough to say
That it’s wrong
I can’t let my childhood years go away
That’s the only sentimental things that keep me today
The doc’s keep sayin' that I’m repressing
I’m stuck in depression
That’s why I lash out in aggression
But, that matters what breaks the sight
And the news is the headlines of my life
Whether there or nay
Hard times I pray
And I hope that my spirit will find it’s way
To a god that’ll words to Hoping that he say, «yeah my dude I hear you»
If not then I’m stuck in my sins
Any the only way I know to speak through is my pens
And you, you just like me too
If you knew any better you’d do what I do But, just keep me in your prayers
It’s the last stand and boot camp is here, so Well I keep holdin' on to yesterday
I keep holdin' on, enough to say
That it’s wrong