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"Oh Yeah (Our Babies)" lyrics by SAIGON
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"Oh Yeah (Our Babies)"


[Intro: LeAlan Jones sample from the "Ghetto Life 101" Documentary]
I remember one time I was over at my Auntie house spendin' the night.
And we playin' Super Nintendo...
I hear this lady out: "I heard you been lookin' 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 playin' there... like nothin' happened!
And then Vietnam...
Them people came back crazy!
I LIVE in Vietnam, so what you think I'm a be if I live in it and they just went and visited? [echoes]

[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...

[Interlude: Samples from the "Ghetto Life 101" Documentary (Saigon)]
[LeAlan Jones:] When I was ten... I seen my first automatic weapon. A Glock-9... two clips!
[Lloyd Newman:] I seen all kinds of guns...
[LeAlan Jones:] Yeah.
[Lloyd Newman:].44's,.22...
[LeAlan Jones:] Techs.
[Lloyd Newman:] Techs! I saw rifles.
[LeAlan Jones:] Mac-10, Mac-11... (these our babies, man!)
[Lloyd Newman:] Livin' around here, (our babies...) you hear shootin' all the time. [echoes]

[Saigon:]
Damn! - The drama's pitiful! - Little 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!

[Interlude: Samples from the "Ghetto Life 101" Documentary]
[Lloyd Newman:] I asked my father, Chill... what his best memories of my mother are.
["Chill":]
Me and her have fun. Puttin' our feet in the water together?
Hmm, we were sober then... but once we started gettin' hiiigh... Them memories gone...
They gone!
[Lloyd Newman:] Why are you drinkin'?
["Chill":] I don't understand why I'm drinkin'.
[Lloyd Newman:] Do you think you're gonna stop? [echoes]
["Chill":] Yeah, I'm going to rehab... [echoes] and take care of myself.
[Lloyd Newman:] What do you drink?
["Chill":]
I drink about two or three pints of wine a day.
But it ain't helpin' me, ain't doin' nothin' but killin' me!
Don't people understand it's destroyin' you!?
[Lloyd Newman:]
If it's destroyin' 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.
[Lloyd Newman:] I have no further questions. [echoes] [14 seconds instrumental]

[Saigon:]
Damn! - The drama's pitiful! - Little niggaz is homicid-ical.
Couple meals ago, shorty was eatin' through his umbilical! [beat fadces-out]
Now he feels he unkillable! - Shit is all amazing,
The wrong altercation'll leave his ass with a long abrasion. [beat stops]
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! [rewind]

[Outro 1: Saigon]
They don't make records to sell! [rewind]
They don't make records to sell! [rewind]
They don't make records to sell! [rewind]
They don't make records to sell! [rewind]
They don't make records to sell! [rewind] [alarm clock sound]

[Outro 2: Saigon]
Uhhm, mmmm! What time is it, man?
Man, it's about 7 o'clock, hmmm!
Gone back to sleep, man.

[Thanks to Big TaMá$ for these lyrics]

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