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Freddy Ruger on the track Paupa got beats making history, on god! Cocaine residue, bitch, clean them pots out Never seen pure, bitch? This what rappers talk 'bout Eyes are the windows to the soul, look in my house Brains of the operation, duck tape your mom mouth Crime route, yeah I took it I grew up a ballplayer Feed my fuel to the air like a carburetor Half my homies went to the league, I went to county jail Twin towers and a spur, but im out on bail I don't tell, do the time for me and my crimees Need all the flash in my face like a I.D Rodney, I'm a junior and a shooter Bring the thunder, shit, okay, see you do it sooner Man I grew up in apartments where my granny was the landlord And the windows had bars like a metaphor Basketball, I lurked in the alley, we playing half-court No net, just a rim and a backboard Oh, them apartments (Apartments to the projects) Grew up living in apartments Every day where a cop hits [?] In every hood [?] All my niggas [?] Letras de cancionesCaught them living in them apartments All them losses taught us to win Shit I was 'bout three years old when I met Luda Not Chris, [?] kicking with a trooper [?] he was my recruiter Used to ditch and go to [?] Any nigga push the sand cart, keep a tool cocked [?] Clothes off his back and the shoes from his feet I put my soul on every track, I rebuked your jealousy And the feelings we be strapped like two baby seats RJ? No R-mother-fuck-LA AP's to the projects, we all the same AP's or the Rolex, no time to waste How the fuck 12 got the remote to all the gates? Oh, them apartments (Apartments in the projects) Grew up living in apartments Every day where a cop hits [?] In every hood [?] All my niggas [?] Caught them living in them apartments All them losses taught us to win Ohhhhhh, oh God! Ohhhhhh, oh-h Ohhhhhh, oh God! Ohhhhhh, oh-h Ohhhhhh, aah-oh! Ohhhhhh, oh God! From Letras Mania