Death of A Salesman - People Under The Stairs

Yo, I was chilling, lamping, cooling at the spot

When this light-skinned nigga with Tims told me he could rock

He told me his name and I think it started with a K

That’s exactly what happened after this day

I put that same letter after his name to end it off

So I coughed gave threw a pound and then I was off

Went around the corner where the homies was at

Told my nigga, Elad, pull went down, he handed me the…

Took about five pulls, yo, that shit was just right

He handed me about five Newports and I was off into the night

Stopped at the store and picked up a Big Gulp

When I saw this black Jeep pull up, it was my homie from the set

He told me heard from evil went down, so I hopped inside the loc

So we could head across town

Yo yo yo… Hey, Thes

What’s up, man?

What’s up?

We’re bumpin' at Unity tonight, man… I’ll just go in there and do this thing,

ain’t no need to stay…

Let’s be out

Stepped inside the place, stepped quiet as fuck

Stepped into a dark corner so fools wouldn’t know what’s up

Thes came over, said he saw him at the bar fronting like he was hard

But it was time to pull his card, so I stepped to this nigga

Look him dead in his face, was like «You's a disgrace to this race!»

Then I…

Wack MCs… wack MCs… (etc.)

Make me have to call your name out… (scratched and repeated)

It was a cold September morning, there was fog in the air

A pair of police proceeded ahead of a 21-car black caravan

Of cars and vans with headlights, testimony of dead night

My flashlight light the right way for me

I went early and climbed a tree, so I might see the show as it passed

The cars slow as they pass the PD-blocked intersection

Then gassed up the hill through the gate on the left

And slowed and showed moonlight reflections on the fresh-mown grass

Tombstones on tinted glass

The special pass sitting on the dashboard of a black Ford

In front stopped the cop and he opened the door

And out steps a man with flowers inside his grip

Squinting for the pig, Linden suit and wingtips

Out flew the rest and they rared to go, I hear no sounds

Just see lips moving and moonglow, so I and I, camouflaged

Slide down the tree, float across the road that’s like 30 feet wide

Beverly-Hills-style glide past the G-ride

See a rock at the end of the block, cop a squat

And watch men slide, an all-black box with gold rails

Tail-side, adorned with carnations in random configurations

Of player pride and herring bone, scales and other paraphernalia

Of a lifestyle that reflected but failure

The trails of fog leap of the back of the cab, passed it one-by-one

Dookie gold made it hard to hold

I had to laugh.

Oh, what fun when one dies

They walked toward the grave, the fog started to rise

Check the coffin… «hella tight»… put it on the hoist

And lower it deep, deeper into the moist earth

Last words of this man… I slipped into the night

And heard the fog…"Nigga had a hella tight car (?)

We’re dead nigga… He dead… (?)