Ain't No Santa (Final Edited Album Version) (Final Edited Album Version)

Ain't No Santa (Final Edited Album Version) (Final Edited Album Version)

Trick Daddy

(Trick Daddy Talking)
Turn It up, Because I have something to say y'all
y'all pay attention ova there representing Page County
You know what I'm saying?
Everybody doin songs talking about what they gat
And they jewelry and they cars,
I want to talk about something we never had shit, be real

And there damn sure ain't no Santa Clause because,
If it was like Santa what happen to Thanksgiving dinner
While y'all was dreaming of a white Christmas
I was out chillin' wit' my niggas out stealin' trying to make a living
And if I robe for a million
I just hope god would forgive me after I spent it on his children
See I was born in da struggle 89 stepdaddy's me and my mother
And ten others, Lets see that's 3 sisters, 7 brothers
All we had was each other and I did 'cause I love'm
I never seen a flying raindeer so if rudoff called dawg
Y'all just tell him I ain't here,
And I ain't da grinch who like to stillChristmas,
But if you pay attenion there a lesson to learn just listin
See I believe dat da children know our future but if you don't rise
Them right they'll grow up and shoot cha

[Chorus: x2]
Ain't no christmas in da ghetto
Just tryin' na stay alive
He neva even seem them
He never even hear them
Only ho ho ho, Is da Hoes I know

I was born among racism, that's why the police hate me and I
Cam see it in their faces
Yeah they wanna give nigga cases and
They wanna see me in jail hell
They can't wait to take me,
Wanna hog tie me and take my bar,
Take me off around Christmas cracker don't make me run
If you know the moral to the words of this song,
What about the words of Rodney King "Can we all get along?",
Huh cause niggas just when I nervous back,
Matter fact sent them ova there where them terrorist,
And they ain't coming back till Bin Loden
And all those fighters are found
Dead shoot up in the mountains of Airkida

[Chorus: x2]

Mr. President tell me why my people doin' bad
Some blacks wit no dads doin' bad shooting bad
And fo' sho' getting a limo got a wardrobe
I'm stuck wearing dis niggas clothes
Hell I go to school and dem teachers straight dog me
I try to learn but my brain just won't, I'm not dumb but mad
And sad which I should be,
You tried framing me, I'm forced to live wit out a job
Or work at Mike D's or
I could robe circuit city and get 5 or 3,
Slanga kane its no thing but I'm scared to of tab,
And if you think I'm gonna change
Than cracker you can kiss my ass

[Chorus: x4]

Published by Universal Music Publishing Group

Lyrics Provided By LyricFind Inc.

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