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Credits

PERFORMING ARTISTS
Tee Grizzley
Tee Grizzley
Vocals
COMPOSITION & LYRICS
Martin McCurtis
Martin McCurtis
Songwriter
Terry Sanchez Wallace
Terry Sanchez Wallace
Songwriter
PRODUCTION & ENGINEERING
Helluva
Helluva
Producer

Lyrics

Loved each other way more than we love life We so close, people thought had a love life We loved each other way more than we love life (Helluva made this beat, baby) Still do (AJB) I used to be like "I don't need security" (street nigga) I don't want these niggas think that there's fear in me (At all) tell my driver, "Be on point", he wasn't hearing me Them shots went off, I'm steady callin' you You ain't answering, you scarin' me (Hello?) In my city, if you winnin', you can't stay They call bein' broke "real", they call gettin' money "fake" I gave you a bitch, why you still lookin' at my date? I gave you some food, why you still lookin' at my plate? (Envy) Nigga, they say they love us, but they love might be hate I can't really tell the difference, salt and sugar look the same (It's tricky) look how they did Dex, look how they did Blake Look how they tried to do me, but got JB Man, that jealousy so real, man, that hate so deep Man, that envy shit so real, you make it off these streets Your soul wouldn't mean it, still shocked, what she do to you? You was just winnin', now I'm cryin' at your funeral But any tear I shed, another thousand on your head, nigga (Sew my fuckin' mouth, man) now shut your face You think I'm playin, nigga? Every tear I shed Another thousand on your head (on my daddy Gray) Now shut your face, you think I'm playing, AJB I wish I was sittin' outside with you And I was in that back with you, you know Your favorite rapper would've never let those guys get you I would've shot 'em with lead, dyin', leakin' in the street Wouldn't have ran, would've smoked a roach and watched that man go to sleep Hey, you think they came for her? Man, you know they came for me, they took my heart And my brains, niggas know that I can't think I'm playin' with these drums, niggas know I like Tay Keith Eyes bloodshot, red niggas know I ain't miss sleep, but All these dead loved ones make it hard to sleep All this anger inside make it hard to grieve All this nicotine make it hard to breathe All these tears in my eyes make it hard to sleep They find a murder weapon, bro', it's gon' be hard to beat First offer, 50 years, so it's hard to plea Ayy, if they do something to us, then they known for it (Then they known for it) but if we do something to them Then we run for it (we run for it) Fuck that, if you takes mines, I take yours, homie They gon' pray to the Lord, "Don't be too hard on me" (Please), ayy, you draw one, I draw four, homie (I draw four, homie) They be like, "God, don't be too hard on me" (please) Turn this bitch up, they gon' say I'm dead wrong Fuck that these niggas, got my auntie with a headstone Niggas tellin' me what to do like they smart as me But they ain't take your heart from you, they took my heart from me (bitch) I got one less person that wanted more from me Ready to kill whoever played with me or shorted me I got your kids, I got nonnie, I got Neal, too I got your babies, Kinsey and Gabrielle, too I got your sister and your mommy and your fam, too How the fuck you gon' down me? I can't stand you (damn) I pray they don't go to jail, I want them dead I'm just listening to the streets, hearing everything they saying I'm just waitin' on a name, I'm just prayin' that they say it Give a fuck if it's the mayor, nigga, million on his head Wish I could wake you up and beat your ass 'Cause I was just tellig' you about them dreams I had Nigga snatch my heart out my chest, can't nobody replace it when they believe you was fuckin' with your baby "Makes your tea good" is all I ever heard you sayin' Tryna hold my head, I don't know if I'm gon' make it This shit been eatin' me (eatin' me) I don't know what you seen in me, but you believed in me (Believed in me) tell them, "Keep that fake love" Let me grieve in peace (fuck that shit) But hey, you drop mines, I drop yours, homie (I drop yours homie) yeah You drop one, I drop four, homie (dropping four, homie) They be like, "God, please don't be too hard on me" (God, please) God, please don't close the door on me (please)
Writer(s): Terry Sanchez Wallace, Martin Rafeal Mc Curtis Lyrics powered by www.musixmatch.com
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