Lyrics

Gotham City

We had this one cat out the clique, pops’ had grip,
Owned a dealership in the Rich, always talking mad shit,
So plastic, with fantastic stories of orgies and how he’s got master keys,
When papi’s sleeping, he’s creeping like TLC,
Got something for my eyes to see, so prove it,
It’s me and Chris in a brown Buick, cuz you know how we do it,
Stay with a crew in case he tries something stupid,
I knew it was too good to be true,
Just lies, but surprise to my eyes, he came through,
Gave me keys to the 280 Z’s on GP,
The days of 4 by 4’s before the SUV’s, I’m talking 1990,
That’s when you might find me with the grimy,
Nuts getting tiny when the swine be behind me, cuz my car’s raggedy,
Stolen tags and a master key and we’re playing these…

Ghetto games, so dangerous, we use to play,
Gotham City, can’t you see, drive us crazy, you and me,
So insane, I can’t explain, just don’t do the same,
Gotham City, can’t you see, drive us crazy, you and me…

The next day, had to put it in play,
Hitting any random parking lot in the east bay,
I think I picked him, the first victim,
Circled him like great whites in the Pacific rim,
I recall, waited ‘til he went inside the mall,
Pulled up in the next stall, closest to his car,
Nervous and all, palms sweaty and such,
But crime is like a ride with a broken clutch,
Ain’t no reversing it, my man was first in his whip,
Rolled down the windows and shit, turned on the music and dipped,
Gripped the wheel like he owned it, pink slip legitimate,
That’s the way it stayed for a minute,
Every other week we was in a new Z, 280 or 300,
And we stayed blunted,
‘til the last time the swine had us running,
We were wanted,
Ask Leroy Heights who done it…

This is where the story took a twist,
About to spark up in the park but, Chris,
Who’s this blowing up my hip with code 69?
Oh, this fine young dime,
Said there was a party and not to miss it,
They’d be sipping Bacardi in hot tubs, delicious,
I’m 16, draws and weed, all my wishes,
God’s my witness, my man went straight to business,
Left on foot and came back with my foot on the gas,
I laugh, what we do for ass,
We dashed, changed the plates fast and broke,
It was copasetic ‘til we rolled up on them 5-0,
He grilled us to death, turned left, we went straight,
Then he took that right turn up that one way,
Got behind us, hit the sirens, it was silent,
You wouldn’t believe the chase we led them on,
Almost dead and gone playing ghetto games.