Comin' Home - Planet Asia, Celetia Martin

Tonight

So nice, so nice

Always so, so nice

Coming home to you

'Cause it’s been three years too long

Coming back to where I belong

You hold me down like no one before

Now finally, I’m coming home

This time it’s for good

There ain’t no place like my hood

Wouldn’t change it if I could

Coming home, coming home to you

Back to the same place

I used to be a hood nigga for real

True fi sell

You can catch me at the fish spot around 12 o’clock

Or at the barbershop

Probably in there smoking pot

Summertime, chickens out, and you know they’re getting hot

Baby mamas getting head, baby daddys getting shot

Yeah, I know, that’s a lot, that’s I should be turning up

113 degrees, everybody burning up

Slip and slide, hood shit, waterholes, hefty bags

Icey house, candy house, now later’s purple sacks

Summer league, goof games

Hoods start showing out

My city’s the city you clowns need to know about

F.C., home of the three strikes

Most slept on, niggas hating on weak type

And we fight for the right to hustle

From the box to the streets

Ain’t a town that can touch us

I’ve been all around the world

Japan to Amsterdam

At every convention

Rolling woods and swishes

Taking hella' bitches

Running in dudes' misses

From Germany to Britain

Flew with the jewels glistening

A few screws missing

Because my environment had me conditioned

'Til I started travelling

Now when I’m in the hood, all the old Gs listen

To the stories I be pitching

Because they knew me when my life was different

I’m a hip hop dude for real

Because I ain’t ever have to use the steal

I choose to build, break bread and bleed the block

Get dough, and look for good weed to cop

Proceed with gwop

Hold up, breathe to stop

Yeah, soak it all in because it means a lot

When you’re running around, spending money having fun

But even then

Fresno’s number one

FC, Fresno City

Cats quick to let you have it, there’s no pity

But on the right side, let me set the record straight

Yeah, I get dough, but my baby mamma’s on Section 8

Which means I can get cream and stack

I’m like Goldie in the town

That’s if you’ve seen the mack

There’s no place like my hood

There’s no place like home

There’s no place like the block

I sold rocks in Rome

Until I D-I-E

I’m repping F. C

And I’m a do my thing, nigga

That’s On Me

I’m going back to the streets where we used to meet

Share the same 40, man, and flip OZs

But this time, man, the zip’s on me

Whatever you drink, whatever you sip’s on me

It’s the G-O-D and I don’t care

Fresno, yeah!

Master, master!

Master, there’s some trouble.

Someone’s arguing at the restaurant,

so I went down to see myself.

It’s really looking ugly.

The guy’s mean.

He said his name was Slasher Pete!