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Freshie

It's eight o'clock here in kingston, jamaica

The kingston police have issued an apb

Out for wanted criminal rostacious johnson

He has last been seen headed towards

The united states of america or canada

If you have any info please call us right away

[Chorus]

I was a gangsta,

Livin' my life hustlin' on the block, with no food to eat

Rollin' with them prankstas

Settin' the streets on fire with the heat

I had no choice as a gangsta,

Livin' my life hustlin' on the block, with no food to eat

Rollin' with them prankstas

Settin' the streets on fire with the heat

Aiyyo, stepped off the edge of 'maica at the age of ten

Landed at the dot airport, comin' out of may pen

Raised by his grandmama, until his real mama

Could send for the youth, and reunite, aiight

So now he's growin' up exposed to the ghetto limelight

No pops (nope) plus his moms got to work nights

Moonlightin' as a janitor, to make bread for the two

All the while he's growin' up, runnin' with a crew

It started off tryin' to make a little extra creamer

But then it turned to pushin' rocks, savin' for the beamer

Told his moms he got a job workin' in the trade

At a local grease monkey, that's how he's gettin' paid

And that's how he got the deal on the black man wagon

Moms thought it was suspect, but she's still braggin'

To her kin about "how he come home and grow right"

All the while he's wildin' out, money starts pilin' now

The next crew saw the flex and start red eye

Jealous of the way them niggas hustle,

Til he get a little muscle, uh huh, bust a bunch of shots

There my nigga laid, really holdin' down the block

That nigga gangsta

[Chorus]

Hey yo, six weeks in intensive, holdin' on to prayers

On the seventh, he was back on his back in the west wing

His man done came visiting, in his ear whispering

How the block was hot, and there was 'nuff shots whistling

Another week and he was back on his feet

Discharged, ready to get back and hit the street

Moms was still working overtime, clueless to the real

About how his son was livin' in the hood packin' steel

Pushin' coke no joke them cats wanted retaliation

Word got back, about who led the slaughter

One nigga named blaka, real name elroy

Next day (boom) what happened to that boy

For the next three months my man stayed on the low

Told his moms he wasn't workin' cause the garage was slow

But just as he tried to resurface on the strip

Someone on the turf called 222-tips

[Chorus]

Now my man locked up, and had to sweat inside a jail

Cause his man done fled the scene, and moms couldn't afford bail

The trial came and went, his mother cried "discrimination!"

Said the judge didn't know her son

He said he knew him too well, he'd seen him there before

Turned the cheek cryin', now he feels he's on fire

Got burned by the same liquor, quit talkin' fresh

He doesn't know how to act, so now he got to go back

My man got dipped, sent right back to may pen

Grandma didn't want him, now family wouldn't take him

He thought about work, but he said "f that!"

He got a fake passport and just came right back

[Chorus: x2]

It is a sunny day here in Jamaica

Unfortunately we have bad news to report

Rostacious Johnson was apprehended in Canada

And suffered fatal wounds to the back of the head

Rest in peace my brother

Anyways, in tomorrow's news

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written by HARROW, JASON / FRANCIS, ROHAN

Lyrics © Warner/Chappell Music, Inc.

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