Where Were You Lyrics

Down to ride for my side and collide with foes

I spit the flow out with pride till I slide and ghost

I do the most in the ride bumping Proper Dos

Stilo died, it revived with this overdose

So homie listen close, plain and simple

This for those I miss the most got me sentimental

Feelin' comatose, hittin' instrumentals

With this Idaho flow coming off the mental

And you aint ready for the shit that we get into

The shots are deadly in the streets and in the pen too

We rollin' heavy thats how shit has always been foo

But holding steady giving all that I can give you

Whole time always known' I could flow hard

Roll hard as any mother fucker on the whole yard

My soul scarred every time I hit the bowl hard

It blows part pain and anger got me pulling whole cards

Where Were You when the homies hit the hole

Never scared to hit the back and no illusions of parole

Where were you, way before I started hittin' on a track

Just a sack and a back pack posted at the trap

Where were you Motherfucka, when the homies hit the hole

Never scared to hit the back and no illusions of parole

Where were you bitch way before I started hittin' on a track

Just a sack and a back pack posted at the trap

West Side

Switching up like Le born in his last years

Hit the swisha then im gone like my last tears

Pictures got me feeling wrong for my past peers

Tryna live our dreams out feeling like the last here

Still here can you hear me talking to the dirt

Still smoking kill bang the hill as I put in work

Doin dirt on the daily never part time

Slangin banging gankin any bitch thinking im all rhyme

Been through hard times, now homie boutta blow

Left us with some scarred minds, ridin out in idaho

They'll never know, what it took to get here

Hit the tier (dispensa la tire) get that shit clear

No fear, from the hill, only see envy

the dope clear, from here to that BMC

Where Were You when the homies hit the hole

Never scared to hit the back and no illusions of parole

Where were you, way before I started hittin' on a track

Just a sack and a back pack posted at the trap

Where were you Motherfucka, when the homies hit the hole

Never scared to hit the back and no illusions of parole

Where were you bitch way before I started hittin' on a track

Just a sack and a back pack posted at the trap

West Side