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T-Bone - Pushin' Up Daisies
(from the album Tha life of a hoodlum)

Now you're pushing up daisies,
six feet underground last thing you heard was the shotgun sound did it go 'blam' or did it go 'blow-POMP-POMP' tell me what you're gonna work now..
My homie Ralphie's pushing up daises,
layin' in a casket,
he got blasted tryin'a act hard,
so they pulled his card.
At the age of 8 he started hangin' out with the taggin' crew.
Now he's a little bit older and he's down for the color blue.
When in school my homie used to get straight-As now he's hangin' up on the street-corner gettin' blazed,
raised on a bad side of town.
And when you from the other side,
homie,
then yo -- you catch a beat down.
Now Ralphie's 16 years old, bold.
Robbin', stealin',
he's got a 9(mm) and drug dealin'.
He's now a criminal,
runnin' from the 5-0s, the narcos,
po-po's and the metros,
taggin' up his set everywhere he be.
But it all came to an end in the summer of '83,
chillin' in the park with the homies in his crew.
A 6-4 rolls by,
and what does little Ralphie do? Take out a blue rag,
wave it up in the air and throw up his clip...
but you them vatos weren't havin' it,
they pulled out two nines and everybody starts runnin'.
Ralphie yells "NO!" but it's too late 'cause they're already gunnin'.
They got away,
but hold-up,
yo somebody's missin'...
they look back,
and Ralphie's layin' in the grass,
twitchin',
blood on his clothes and his homies yellin' "what do I do?!" and Ralphie's last words were 'tell everybody to wear blue' at his funeral,
and then he died.
His homie cries,
as he sees Ralphie close his eyes,
and now he's just a memory,
stick-up kid that was doin' dirt.
All of homies got his name with 'RIP's on the back of their shirts...
and it hurts,
'cause that stuff happens every day.
Another victim to the ghetto,
man.
(chorus) E-Dog: I'm always hearing about these gangstas,
playas,
pimps and ballers..
how they goes up,
but lemme tell you about how deep they falls.
Six feet underground's where their endin' up,
how they're sendin' up bouquets of roses,
'cause their foes is gonna deliver hot lead to your head,
and some of them end up takin' unlimited naps in the county-bed.
And their partners want the vengeance,
get out the black ski masks,
extra clips and load the engines.
Load in a clip and hit a spliff,
let's do this homicide.
It's time to take out one of them fools from the other side.
(Aaight, where they at?)
There they go,
creep on 'em slowly...
take out enough artillery to make 'em "holy".
And when it be on,
everybody be like "nahhh,
can't be me! I'm too young to die no God please,
help me!" You shoulda thought about that before you got struck.
Now it's too late,
man, cuz you pushin' em up.
Everybody wanna play,
but they don't wanna play.
Just like Tony Montana,
tell 'em E: (Every dog has his day.
It be appointed now for every G once to die..
and then be judged) for every sin and every homicide.
They be wantin' to live that vida loca and be in control,
but what does it profit a man to gain the world and lose his soul?
(You can roll with me,
as I creep through this hood,
I be hearin' all the pain on the wall for the ones that stood..
out for the hurt and puttin' in rk and livin' like a slave,
yellin' (I wanna be saved!) but now they're in their grave.
And worse then that,
yo they be burnt-up like the third degree,
they coulda-been free but now their homie's livin in misery.
(In hell, because he rejected Christ as his savior,
could've been havin' lots and peace and love so now I say to ya..)
Get out the gang,
before the gang gets you.
'Cause all this 'gang-recognize-gang' be driving me insane.
I be going out with E-Dog and my boys down to San Mateo.
(Cuz I never hesitate to preach the Word in a county jail!)
See nowadays folks be goin' under...
from New York to Chicago down to killer Cali and it makes me wonder.
(Why-oh-why do you keep on actin' crazy?)
Give your life to Christ,
or you'll be -- you know the rest!