Clipse — Young Boy

[Hook: Pharrell] You're out of line! Mm, I'll tell you what I'm talkin' 'bout You're out of line! When I was a young boy You're out of line! My mama always told me, "Don't take no shit" You're out of line! "Motherfucker hit you, yeah, you better hit 'em back" You're out of line! So when I hit the nigga, it go, "Blam!" Ugh You're out of line! A nigga out of line, ugh [Verse 1: Malice] Back when I was 'bout Big Wheels and race tracks Pops pushed a Tornado and rolled to eight-tracks Never stood a chance, exposed from way back Lying to the baby, saying it's Ajax I was 'bout four when I walked past that door That should've been closed where I first witnessed the raw See, in my household, it was quite unique Playing hide-and-seek, you might find a ki' Caught glimpse accidental, it branded my mental Pals, my role model, in that Lincoln Continental Bought all my friends Icees, it was 'bout six And when he pulled off, I was like, "See! Told you we was rich!" How I turned out—let it be no surprise When they speak of cousin Ricky, it brings tears to their eyes See, my family got a history of hustlers Lil' brother, big brother, mother to grandmother—it's tradition [Hook: Pharrell] Mm, I'll tell you what I'm talkin' 'bout You're out of line! When I was a young boy You're out of line! My mama always told me, "Don't take no shit" You're out of line! "Motherfucker hit you, yeah, you better hit 'em back" You're out of line! So when I hit the nigga, it go, "Blam!" Ugh You're out of line! A nigga out of line, I said— You're out of line! Motherfuckers out of line [Verse 2: Pusha T] My mama didn't see it coming; my daddy was there What's my excuse? Cartoons were the root Started with Yosemite Sam, with the gun in— Palm of each hand—what couldn't I demand? See— Thirteen, studied the gangsta's lean Low brim, no smile; lot of cash, meanwhile Daddy had the Chrysler Fifth Ave-y Hustlers on the blocks cars were aero-dynam-y With ghetto paint-jobs, Mango M3s Seventeen-inch BBs riding tough The bike was Huffy; attention was froze In a twenty-five-cent frozen cup laid my soul The streets had made the mold Since fourteen, holding—Pusha T was chosen Rebel like Che Guevara RC Tyco versus Carreras—P! [Hook: Pharrell] Mm, I'll tell you what I'm talkin 'bout You're out of line! When I was a young boy You're out of line! My mama always told me, "Don't take no shit" You're out of line! "Motherfucker hit you, yeah, you better hit 'em back" You're out of line! So when I hit the nigga, it go "Blam!" Ugh You're out of line! A nigga out of line, I said You're out of line! Motherfuckers out of line [Verse 3: Malice] I think of grandma and the weight she would foot 'em She kinda remind me of Madame Queen in "Hoodlum" Sport the grandkids—each one she would treasure Said she kept two guns and to do so was a pleasure The cigarette dangle, forty-five-degree angle Still every bit a lady, but you don't wanna tangle Let that explain me and how I got involved Young'un's hustling in the Creek—me, John-John, and Jamal [Verse 4: Pusha T] Age fifteen, walking through the hallway Plate the new Jordans—first ones on the scene See, I could afford 'em, living out a dream Hustler on the rise, laces untied Slid past young'un's, couldn't break my stride Didn't know I was knotted in street ties Teachers askin' how and why Bitches passing by: "Oh, my! He's so gangsta!" [Hook: Pharrell] Mm, I'll tell you what I'm talkin 'bout You're out of line! When I was a young boy You're out of line! My mama always told me, "Don't take no shit" You're out of line! "Motherfucker hit you, yeah, you better hit 'em back" You're out of line! So when I hit the nigga, it go, "Blam!" Ugh You're out of line! A nigga out of line, I said— You're out of line! I said, you niggas out of line Mm, I'll tell you what I'm talkin 'bout You're out of line!