Birdman - What Happened to That Boy? [tekst, tłumaczenie i interpretacja piosenki]

[Hook - Pusha T]
(Brrrrrrrrrrr!) What happened to that boy?
(Brrrrrrrrrrr!) What happened to that boy?
(Brrrrrrrrrrr!) What happened to that boy?
He was talking shit we put a clap into that boy

[Verse 1 - Malice]
I heard they snitching on a player; man, say it ain't so
Even as a young'un they consigned me to blow
Which explains why I'm worth my weight in gold
While they was taking baby steps from an 8th to an O
Word in the streets that the envy is me
Enough ice on that watch to make a nigga lose sleep
Magnified face help the bitch see clearly
9 on the waist, hit the bitch up severely
I'm known for the flip of that coca-ina
I'm heavy in the street like the 7 series Beema' man
Hit 'em with the Nina man
Or that 4/5th guaranteed to lean ya man
I'm the reason that your block is vacant
Malicious will hit you just to make a statement
Bitch! Clipse and Cash Money: who ain't rich?
Don't compare me to you, nigga, you ain't this

[Hook]

[Verse 2 - Birdman]
Stunna and Patty Cake, the worldwide Pusha
Birdman, nigga, leave the guns in the bushes
Been shitting up bricks, unload 'em to Gucci
Boss of the ghetto with the round-shape cookie
Shit one, throw one, nigga: flood the block
If I don't go to jail, nigga, birds gon' flock
Nigga sitting on the toilet: bitch, get off the pot!
The bird just landed so the hood gonna rot
New whips, big chips, the Prada Gucci shit
Bought mami a fly Benz, the wide skinny lips
She takes my flight, she holds my weight
While the po-po staked out from state to state
It ain't nothing to a baller, baby
Pay the cost, big money, heavy weight, Birdman, hood boss, baby
Stepping on my line, I'll show a little something
Make Corleone come out
And then the black crow will touch ya

[Hook]

[Verse 3 - Pusha T]
Yuugh
Another soul lost
Had to make his shirt match my ox-blood-colored Porsche
Yuugh, the rims match of course
Blood hit his Timbs, it reminded me of them
Glistening, wrist on chilla
Gun in the same palm: a gorgeous killa
I put this on my Lord: my niece was 4 when she felt chinchilla
I passed the chauffeur that shit that made fiends rise from the dead like "Thriller"
Gangster...hustler
At night still found time to kiss my mother
Live like I'm dreaming, kick my feet up
Gun poked my waist, remind me of my demon
So quit your yappin' before I get to clappin'
And have your body parts mix and matchin' fella

[Hook]