Oh Yeah (our Babies) Lyrics

[LeAlan Jones]
"I remember one time I was over at my Auntie house
spending the night. And we playin' Super Nintendo.
I hear this lady: 'Yo, I heard you been looking for me,
nigga'
Then she just -- boom-boom-boom-boom-boom!
She let off about eight shots. Then I heard the other
gun fire off
and we were just still there playing there, like
nothin' happened.
And then Vietnam, them people came back crazy. I (live)
in Vietnam
So what you think I'ma be if I live in it and they just
went and visited?"

[Saigon]
Suckers could not survive without philoso-phy
When somebody dies, you see why I'm not suprised?
Had a plot to rise since I looked in the doctor's eyes
Since I started drinkin milk through what's homogenized
I would strive with or without a pops to provide
Moms still cries 'cause she fell for a crock of lies
I try to teach her to fight her fears
I try to teach her to wipe her tears
Don't worry, shit gon' be aight this year
I'm at the top of my game, just watch for my name
Better off poppin my brain than poppin my chain (dang!)
I claim king without droppin a thing
When they ask if I'm the best, I reminisce of the bing
and think...

[LeAlan Jones]
When I was ten, I seen my first automatic weapon
A Glock Nine -- two clips.

[Lloyd Newman]
I seen all kinds of guns -- .44, .22, (Techs!) Techs. I
saw rifles.

[Jones:] Mac 10, Mac 11.
[Newman:] Living around here. You hear shooting all the
time.

[Saigon]
Damn..
The drama's pitiful, lil' niggaz is homicid-ical
Couple meals ago, shorty was eatin through his
umbilical
Now he feels he unkillable, shit is all amazing
The wrong altercation'll leave his ass with a long
abrasion
I try to make my life de-focal through rhymes
These niggaz do vocal booth crimes, I shot niggaz
multiple times
You sold a few dimes, but when you rappin, you the
crack king
I sold it to whites when you thought it was just a
black thing
I'm filled with this realness, rappers happen to lack it
I'm flabbergasted you got a platinum plaque for that
wack shit
All the real gangstas, they on their way to bein dead
or in jail
They don't make records to sell

[Lloyd Newman]
I asked my father, Chill, what his best memories of my
mother are.

['Chill']
Me and her have fun, putting our feet in the water
together
We were sober then... but once we started gettin high..
Them memories gone... They gone.

[Newman:] Why are you drinking?
[Chill:] I don't understand why I'm drinking.
[Newman:] Do you think you're gonna stop?
[Chill:] Yeah, I'm going to rehab, and take care of
myself.
[Newman:] What do you drink?
[Chill:] I drink about two or three pints of wine a
day.
But it ain't helping me, ain't doin nothin' but killing
me.
Don't people understand it's destroying you?
[Newman:] If it's destroying you, why do you still
drink?
Do you think you've been a good father?
[Chill:] Yes, I have, to the best capability I could.
[Newman:] I have no further questions.

[Saigon]
The drama's pitiful, lil' niggaz is homicid-ical
Couple meals ago, shorty was eatin through his
umbilical
Now he feels he unkillable, shit is all amazing
The wrong altercation'll leave his ass with a long
abrasion
I try to make my life de-focal through rhymes
These niggaz do vocal booth crimes, I shot niggaz
multiple times
You sold a few dimes, but when you rappin, you the
crack king
I sold it to whites when you thought it was just a
black thing
I'm filled with this realness, rappers happen to lack
it
I'm flabbergasted you got a platinum plaque for that
wack shit
All the real gangstas, they on their way to bein dead
or in jail
They don't make records to sell
They don't make records to sell
They don't make records to sell
They don't make records to sell
They don't make records to sell
They don't make records to sell

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