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Artist: Rubbabandz f/ Mali Boy
Album:  New Jack City, Vol 1: What the Streets Been Missin'
Song:   Zone Out
Typed by: Cno Evil

[Rubbabandz]
I'm on the West Side Highway, coming back from uptown
Dominican turf, me and Brown Hornet just copped some sticky icky
Split the Philly, and twist it up with some angel dizzy, the illy
We call it love beat, wet blunts'll get you soaked
An ice cold Corona for scratchy throat
Peppermint foot or cottonmouth, one of them days
I was so stressed, I just wanted to zone out
Can you feel me? Holla if you hear me, stuck in the hood
Daydreaming I'm on the beach, in Miami
Under palm trees, catching the breeze, with family
My sons running around, moms got the grill going
Everybody eating good, no ribs showing
Will my dreams come true one day, I'm not knowing
Only thing I can do is pray, ask God for a better way
And when I'm blowing

[Chorus: Mali Boy]
I don't mean to let go though, holla at the hoes
My nigga is pro, diamonds and gold
I'm so glow, you can see
Why don't you come get in the zone wit me
I got the diamond in the back, the sunroof top
Watching for the feds, cuz the block is hot
I'm a hustler, baby, pocket full of dough
I bet you wish that you was in my zone

[Rubbabandz]
I wish things could of been different, for me, growing up
A good excuse for me, zoning out so much
I kept the mic in my clutch, to keep me from trouble
My moms out of work, now we back in the struggle
Now I'm back on the hustle, I got crack to juggle
Hope I don't fumble, the D's knock me on the humble
They got to be a better way, when I was fourteen
I saw a fiend get his heart blown out in broad day
Right in back of the building, front of women and children
And Killa Kane still locked up for the killing
A product of environment, is it a poor excuse or is it the truth
We only know how to play sports, sell crack, rap and shoot
It's a trap, never get caught, never look back
Never look down, keep ya head to the sky
Walking on a cloud, feel so high, helps me get by

[Chorus]

[Rubbabandz]
Aiyo, zone out wit me, I know times is hard
When you got a felony strike and can't find a decent job
It feels like it's you against all odds
Like an episode from Oz, getting shanked in the yard
But this is real life, no lights, cameras
Nothing but dark alleys, junkies, gamblers, and pan handlers
Gun slingers who bust real hammers, put a slug in a fake gangstas bandana
Welcome to the hood where everything's good
Drug sales caught on real TV camera, to get in the building
You need a scanner, we under surveillance, 24/7
Like a concentration camp, is you understanding my grammer
Police crooked like the St. Ide's logo, pleasure this like Tommy Hill and Polo
But keep that on the low-low, I spit that for a promo
To set your mind free, cuz you shouldn't have to pay for knowledge, youknow?

[Chorus]