Land of the Lost - X-Raided

Many muthafuckas didn’t make it

Other niggas locced up cuz they couldn’t take it

The ghetto got it’s claws in my back tryin' to keep a nigga down

I’m cryin' out for help, but help ain’t nowhere to be found

So what can I do?

Pursue other avenues to get revenues

Tryin' not to be the next boy on the Channel 3 ten o' clock news

Facin' interrogation, fuck an explaination

It’s time for declarations with exclaimations

I’m sick and tired of muthafuckas in my business

All up in my mix like sugary Kool-Aid worried about who I paid

And who I didn’t, I’m tired of spittin' happy raps

I’m ready for representin'

My fifty collar clips spit happy caps

It’s gettin' hard to be a G, P.D.

wanna see me rot

In the penetenairy doin' centuries OH MY GOD!

What do I do?

Where can I go?

What can I say?

I’m in the Land, of the Lost, with no escape

Stuck in a whirlpool gettin' drug down

We was four deep but I’m the only one now

How long will I last before I fall off?

Runnin', for my life, in the land of the lost

Stuck in a whirlpool gettin' drug down

We was four deep but I’m the only one now

How long will I last before I fall off?

Runnin', for my life, in the land of the lost

Second Verse:

Christmas missed us again

Poppa robbed 7−11 so now he sittin' in the pen

Ain’t no presents up under the tree for me

No toys to enjoy, cuz Mama’s unemployed

Your boy had to face reality at an early age

StepDad beatin' on Mama cuz he had a bad day

The drama was thicker than Hill Street Blues

Wanted to get a .22 and buck him, so you can see it on the news

Now my shoes was holey, pants was old

Birthdays was fucked up, all I got was clothes

A lil' Bebe kid, young Pro-Wing sporter boy

Wearin' turtlenecks, and thick-ass corduroys

Never got along in Junior High, got bagged on, beat down

Hoes laughed at me

But I tried to be cool, I tried to fit in

But then I said «Fuck it!»

And started comin' to school with a Mack-10

Got a nigga for his Nikes and his Starter coat

I got another for his bike, got another for his loccs

Robbed the same 7−11 as Poppa

I went and bought a coat down, and some khaki suits, now I’m proper

Blocc ah-, filliated at only fourteen

I’m doin' what I want and can’t nobody say a thing

And it seems like I’m out of control

I don’t know where I’m headed, the Land of the Lost got my soul

Third Verse:

My Mama said there would be days like these

The Ghetto on my back beatin' me down to my knees

Disease, infected

Children, neglected

Everywhere I look, I don’t see nothin' but crooks

I rejected, the knowledge that my Mama tried to give

I told her «It's my life and I’m the one that’s gotta live»

Mistaken prone, thinkin' I’m grown, doin' whatever I wanna

Nigga’s on his own, all alone, no one in my corner

I got a job at Dairy Queen servin' double burgers

Moonlightin' as a Bloccer servin' double murders

My first check was only fifty bucks

So fuck Dairy Queen, I got back on my the scene

And stacked some real green

But opportunies is limited, it’s either sell drugs or fast food

And you know which one I choose

Cuz it’s win, lose, or draw, in sickness, in health

It’s represent the turf

Cuz don’t nobody else give a fuck

The only love I ever felt, came from the homies and myself

I want wealth, and power, no matter what the cost

That’s all that’s on my mind, in the Land, of the Lost

Stuck in the whirlpool…