Testi:
New Story The Golden Streets

two years ago Now we're running with no brakes, everyone calling our name You don't realize you're going down Blaming yourself today Is just right because We ride golden streets

said we all could go So I'm up and out of the ghetto, son of a gold miner City-slicking Carolinian standing out like Ming china A golden bull at heart

I've ever known And like a blind dog without a bone I was a gypsy lost in the twilight zone I hijacked a rainbow and crashed into a pot of gold I've

nigga I'm over the fence and up the stairs never reminiscin' Took my ski-mask off and slapped a new clip in Time to fire up a joint cause it's hectic Sirens fill the street

gamble From the Calliope to Iraq, we still get dough We call a, bitch is a bitch, and a hoe is a hoe Penalty the label, in New York, we on cable [Chorus

the story [Mac Shawn] Turf Stories We tell turf Stories [Singer] We tell the story [Mac Shawn] Turf Stories Motherfuckin' turf Stories [Singer] We tell the story

ya why firsthand, we did a show up in Oak-land And niggaz was kickin up sand, to them bangin ain't nothin new And slangin ain't nothin new And for every

'mon, uh Doap Nixon, ATOP, gotta be a betta way I found out that by da time you make it in life You find out you already had it True story, c'mon y'all

Chorus: Here's a little story I got to tell And this dis goes on, again and again Uh, Uh Here's a little story I got to tell And this dis goes on,