Play with fire, You get burned When the heat was on I turned...
Play with fire, You get burned When the heat was on I turned Turned to trouble Trouble [verse 1] Yeah yeah c-3 New Orleans baby the street called eagle And everybody's ill yea illegal People steal cars we steal people We eat like dogs but we're still people And even when your lost trouble still see you And even if your dead broke we are still equal One time for the little people eat your meal Don't let the meal eat you (I run to trouble) Street runners Your running me crazy with this one I Run With Trouble [Verse 2] And just the other day my n***a Chris killed himself I pray to god that I never feel the way he felt Where do we go when theres no help He figured heaven so he went left Ya'll know that ain't right Plus he was high as a plane on that same night Shit I probably been on that same flight Shit I probably had that same fight I just kept swinging Twelve rounds come and bells ringing (i run to trouble, trouble) Introduced to the game when I was just a child Mama know the drug dealers straight quit her job He took his life and along with him I died And she died We died... Then came my daughter to my bedside Told me, "daddy, don't cry, I'm alive" I look her in the eyes and see me with no sins But this is how the note ends I have walked a bitter line Chosen second over the 1 Still I look for better times I run with trouble, trouble... You know Just kicking back (Though I look for brighter times) I am carter (I run to trouble) Ya know (Trouble) [Verse 2] The tooley poked out the jeans The coke smell just like a bunch of coffee beans Ya nah mean And everything ain't what it seems Ya nah mean Don't play that game without your team Kill for my bread Kill for my g's Kill for my cream I will have that red beam on high beam Now I hear sirens Wait I think I see one behind me I ain't tripping baby Money got me, uh And f**k the police F**k the feds too I ain't jumping in that jumpsuit A blunt too I'm on my one two Check me out I f**k around and check you Respect due Pay yours n***a Mines under the seat by my feet Wheres your n***a Too much whores n***a huh Too much pressure Too much force Too much money You never heard that before Shit, and we stop these snitches at the door Cut the tail off the rat he wont rat no more Whack No more Thats right Get trapped f**king with my cheese Keep shooting till I burn my sleeve N***a please These boys is g's Represent New Orleans like a Florida leash What you know about it We more than thieves Steal from the rich so the poor can eat N***as act up Or n***as act accordingly Hey soldier don't war with me You don't want it
writers: SHOLA AMA, RICHARD COWIE, JASON BLACK, SADIE AMA, DANIEL BAKER
copyright: Sony/ATV Music Publishing LLC, Universal Music Publishing Group
Lyrics Licensed & Provided by LyricFind