Pops Was a Rolla - South Central Cartel

Papa was a rolling stone

Wherever he laid his hat was his home

And when he died all he left us was alone

Pops was a roller, on the streets

He’d beat the young busters he used to meet

I mean scandalous, all I heard was in the contrary

Yo, that’s why the Prod is no fairy

Papa was a hustler, so I wanted to sling

To live up to the name I claim

Mama cried, tryin to stop me in my ignorance

But I was grown, I didn’t have sense

All I knew was I was poor, black, broke and hungry

And the streets, they were callin me

So I stepped, ready and willing to be a gee

To make it easy for my family and me

As for pops, I never got to see the man

But I heard he took matters in his own hand

In the streets he was up on it, world renowned

And if you put him down, yo, then go down

Hard, I won’t take shorts, I serve shorts

Pimpin hoes and breakin hearts

On the for realer my nigga, yo, plain and simple

The man’s back, but now he’s uptempo

I never had a chance to see him

Never heard nothin but bad things about him

Brother, I’m dependin on you

To tell me the truth

Pops was a roller, moms seems to tell me

Well respected by all, that’s what I wanna be

Hardcore, in the streets I be a macker

Quick to smack a, yo, or even jack a

Soft-hearted brother, pops was a roller

Gamin a dub and now here comes his son

Street-smart, on the dice he was a straight gee

On the dice my pops would get busy

Yeah, my pops was a true pimp

He kept a nine and a gangsta limp

Whoever owed him money got beat cause he ran the streets

Like a gee and brought people mysery

I heard pops used to hang out

On the corner gettin drunk and beatin niggas' brains out

I got a name to uphold, so I hit the streets

Broke as hell to take what belongs to me

I saw money, moms said: «Yo, Havikk, please

Leave the streets», then I thought of clockin g’s

Jack of all trades, like pops I ran the street scene

It’s my turn to roll and live like a king

I heard papa called himself a jack of all trades

Tell me is that what sent papa to an early grave

Folks said papa would beg, borrow or steal

To pay his bills

Papa was a rolling stone

Wherever he laid his hat was his home

And when he died all he left us was alone

Cold fakin, never ever on the home front

Beatin moms, yo, pop was a punk

Smokin lleyo and drinkin 8Ball

Thinkin small and tryin to be tall

I was a kid but still I can say this

Pop was tryin to game in a quiz

In the streets he got beat down

Wearin a frown he came home, playin moms like a rebound

Provided them old fools that you’re askin

Told the truth, gee, you’d be faded

So you better chill, punk, or get smacked

Huh, smack me and I smack you back

My brother

Folks said papa was never much on thinkin

Spendin most of his time chasin women and drinkin

Brother, I’m depending on you

To tell me the truth

Papa was a rolling stone

Wherever he laid his hat was his home

And when he died all he left us was alone