Tomorrow (Explicit)

Tomorrow (Explicit) - Ice Cube

Composed by：O'Shea Jackson/Warryn Campbell

All hail to the West coast I am the grand wizard

The West coast warlord and the future is today

'Cause tomorrow that s**t never come

I worry 'bout today and this urban decay

I worry 'bout hip-hop when did it flip-flop

Get whack and turn into gridlock

I don't know is it a government plot

I don't give a f**k whether you love it or not

That's all we got and if you throw it away

You dumb as OJ off a forty

In your Izod this the rap God

What you goin' put up in your iPod

Downloader what you goin' do

When your favorite MC got to sue you

'Cause he got to eat ain't nothin' taboo

Get your a*s beat by Erykah Badu

'Cause you wanna steal this good music

Put me out of business now you lose it

Tomorrow don't you worry about tomorrow that s**t never come

This is very hard to swallow

Keep your hand up on that throttle

You batter right okey right okey

Don't you worry 'bout tomorrow

Tomorrow I'ma handle my business

But today I'ma drink this liquor

'Cause tomorrow I might be a little quicker

But today I'm just the same old n***a

You know that s**t is still a day away

Do yo' thing baby put your life on layaway

'Cause everybody is Nostradamus

Boy don't you know that tomorrow ain't promised

To all the lil' mamas

Don't do a n***a like Isiah Thomas

If you a b***h please be honest

Actin' like a h*e you're not an an-gel

While you're daydreaming 'bout your future

Motherf**ker come around the corner and shoot you

Don't you get stuck in neutral

Put your s**t in drive while you still alive 'cause

Tomorrow don't you worry about tomorrow that s**t never come

This is very hard to swallow

Keep your hand up on that throttle

I'm right okey right okey

Don't you worry 'bout tomorrow

Tomorrow that s**t never come

I know it sounds strange but today is never done

I'm up in the Range when the clock strikes 1

While y'all countin' sheep I'm countin' Benjamins

Up on my feet at the break of the sun

President of the Gangster Na-tion

We don't go to war we go to the store

We rob from the rich and give to the poor

Hip-hop oh what a bore

Lettin college motherf**kers run the front door

F**k that let's take it back to the streets

Don't let Viacom dictate the heat

The nerve of them I never heard of dem

Askin' me about my urban spins

And if I got about a thousand of them

I'm a crate MC accordin' to them

F**k that

Tomorrow don't you worry about tomorrow that s**t never come

This is very hard to swallow

Keep your hand up on that throttle

We gone right all night right all night

Don't you worry 'bout tomorrow

All hail to the West coast I am the grand wizard

The West coast warlord the future is today

Get your grind on mayne get your grind on mayne

Get your grind on