Twas Da Night befo Cridmas

Twas’ da night befo cridmas and tru da crib
Not a homeslice was bouncing, not even big tib
Da hoes and big momas hung tube socks around
In hope, dat proof, of St. Jiggah'd be found

Da pimpdaddy’s were chillin with millimeters of 9
While visions of booty flashed in dere minds
With mums in her do rag and me in ma hood
We slept on da floor like po’ people should

When outside ma crib, deuce homies was at it
I sprang from ma floor spot right befo dad did
When ma pops yelled ‘get da fuck of ma yard’
They stopped dere fight and glared at him hard

The moon reflected off their shiny new glocks
So ma pops hooked them up with some 12 gauge shots
So they darted and buckled right off ma lawn
‘get the hell back in there’ my dad said with a yawn

I looked at ma tree, dead, dried, empty and bare
And hoped, that soon, St. Jiggah’d be here
When down da block an el camino did blast it
Da bass echoed as long as it lasted

With 50 cent, tupac, X and p diddy
I saw with wide eyes my home fry St jiggy
He pulled up and stopped outside my fence
Walked thru ma door and sagged his pants

‘yo jiggy, what you doin’ I pondered
while all through my house he decided to wander
jackin me up and takin my things
he even yanked my brand new bling bling

from my ice to my rings to my new golden dollar
‘yo jiggy, what you doin’ I started to hollar
but he flashed me his 9 and popped some caps
and busted in rhyme to some St jiggah raps

‘yo I be ho ho ho-in all up in yo hood
jackin you up like a true jiggah should
ownin dis place like it aint no deal
cause I be St Jiggah, fo real, fo real’


‘oh snap jiggah, that rhyme be illin
you busted that shit and you still be chillin’
so I took a sec, got a beat in ma head
started to kick it, dis what I said

‘yo, you be in ma house homie, so take a step back
you aint no jiggah, wheres the red sack
so get out ma house befo I phone da popos
you as po’ as me, they’ll get you fo-sho’

so this so called jiggah started upstairs
to my stash and my cash, I was getting scared
he smiled as he bounded to my ma and pas joint
damn, this jiggah just aint getting ma point

I tracked his ass by the sounds dat he made
I saw him, tokin my shit, eyes all glazed
I said ‘yo jiggah get off of ma grill
You gotsta stop this, you gotsta chill’

So I was fed up and tossed his ass out ma door
With his feet draggin 'cross my dirt floor
And as he sprinted off from da police, he managed to say
‘thanks for da bling bling and happy st jiggahs day