Young Boy Lyrics - Lord Willin - Clipse

I'm a tell you what I'm talking bout 

When I was a young boy 

My mama always told me don't take no shit 

Motherfucker hit you then you better hit him back 

So when I hit the nigga it go blame 

And nigga outta line 

Back when I was 'bout big wheels and race tracks 

Pop push the tornado and rode to eight tracks 

Never stood a chance, exposed from way back 

Lying to the baby, saying it's Ajax 

I was about four, when I walked passed that door 

That should have been closed where I first witnessed the raw 

See in my household it was quite unique 

Playing' hide and seek you might find a key 

Caught a glimpse accidental it branded my mental 

path. My role model in that Lincoln Continental 

Bought all my friends icees, it was about six 

And when he pulled off, I was like "See told you we was rich" 

How I turned out let it be no surprise 

When they speak of cousin Ricky it brings tears to their eyes, see 

My family got a history of hustlers 

Lil' brother, big brother, mother to grandmother, it's tradition 

I'm a tell you what I'm talking bout 

When I was a young boy 

My mama always told me don't take no shit 

Motherfucker hit you then you better hit him back 

So when I hit the nigga it go blame 

And nigga outta line, I said, "Motherfucker's outta line" 

My momma didn't see it coming, my daddy was there 

What's my excuse? Cartoons were the root 

Started with Yosemite Sam 

With the gun in palm of each hand 

What couldn't I demand see 

Thirteen, studied the gansta's lean 

Lil' grim no smile, lotta cash meanwhile 

Daddy had the Chrystler fifth avey 

Hustlers on the block cars were aerodynamic 

With ghetto paint jobs, mango M 3's 

On seventeen inch BB's, riding tough 

The bike was huffy, attention was froze 

And a twenty-five cent frozen cup laid my soul 

The streets had made the mold 

Since fourteen holding' push a T was chosen 

Rebel like Che Gueverra, RC Tyco verses Carrera, pick 

I'm a tell you what I'm talking bout 

When I was a young boy 

My mama always told me don't take no shit 

Mother fucker hit you then you better hit him back 

So when I hit the nigga it go blame blame 

And nigga outta line, I said, "Motherfucker's outta line" 

I think of grandma and the weight she would foot 'em 

She kinda remind me of Madame Queen in hoodlum 

Spoiled the grandkids, each one she would treasure 

Said she kept two guns and to do so was a pleasure 

The cigarette dangled, forty-five degree angle 

Still every bit a lady but you don't wanna tangle 

Let that explain me and how I got involved 

Young N's hustlers in the creek, me, Jon Jon and Jamal 

Age fifteen, walking through the hallway 

Played the New Jordan's, first one's on the scene 

See I could afford them, living out a dream 

Hustler on the rise, laces untied 

Slid pass Young N's, couldn't break my stride 

Didn't know I was knotted in street ties 

Teachers asking how and why, bitches passing by 

Oh my he so gangsta! 

I'ma tell you what I'm talking about 

When I was a young boy 

My mama always told me don't take no shit 

Motherfucker hit you then you better hit him back 

So when I hit the nigga it go blame 

And nigga outta line, I said, "Your nigga's outta line" 

I'ma tell you what I'm talking about 

Outta line!