Songtexte

Once again, another Trax Productions Rush for the 9-8, mobsta elites Ain't it a shame how we make ballin' look so sweet Especially when you ain't gotta hide your shit You know what I'm sayin', you can just ball for free Campaignin' your nation, in a legit demonstration And gotta face incarceration Eh yo, Liffy Stokes, let 'em know what's happenin' A nigga been hustlin' so long, God knows I've done so much wrong I was 16 grown and holdin' chrome, servin' blows, we in zones My moms didn't understand me Boy, you gon' die just like your daddy From two to the head, dumped in the riverbed I didn't mean to hurt you so badly I was young and dumb, fast life sprung Off the money and tricks that it brung Had a clip full of hollows to bring your momma sorrow But now regret what I've done Drama's all in the game, was it gang bang or slay I had to do my thang When the shots rang, that's when it clicked in my brain All the shits the same My nigga need a change, I had to get up out these streets To get you out your seat Flip a Trax beat, hit the crib and puff on a sweet And let 'em feel something deep Deep so the realest can feel How I felt right before I bust that steel Rappin' about my life of screel And the everyday struggles of a nigga in the chill Come on and take a lil trip with a legit balla Chi-shot callers (Shot up the chrome and let's swang) Tigers wetter than the wall (Some bitches in the back and a pocket full of stacks, take a match and spark up a lil bud and get blown away) Come on and take a lil trip with a legit balla Chi-shot callers (Shot up the chrome and let's swang) Tigers wetter than the wall (Some bitches in the back and a pocket full of stacks, take a match and spark up a lil bud and get blown away) This shit I've been tokin on's potent Got me straight thinkin' about takin' Mary Jane and eloping Blowin' smoke with the sunroof half-way opened Calico with the scope in close range I guess he gotta aim, and stick a few thangs In a nigga's brain No face straps we be thinkin' that he can Puttin' food on table is an everyday strain But now I did finally flip my shit legit And workin' a different angle of the game Even though my hussle ain't changed I'm still prayin' my best presence to overcome my pain Singin' tapes of Cain The roads to riches seems longer than the freight train And every little stop give a nigga time to plot On the paper you done gain until you drain But I put that on the floor I'ma flow 'til I got no choice, or better yet no voice But still by that time I hope to write enough rhymes To own a fleet real estate with a Rolls Royce Rollin' deep through these Chi-Town streets With my mobsta elites on the way to the Riverside Mall Givin' thanks to the all for givin' me a legit where to ball at Keepin' shit tight for y'all Come on and take a lil trip with a legit balla Chi-shot callers (Shot up the chrome and let's swang) Tigers wetter than the wall (Some bitches in the back and a pocket full stacks, take a match and spark up a lil bud and get blown away) Come on and take a lil trip with a legit balla Chi-shot callers (Shot up the chrome and let's swang) Tigers wetter than the wall (Some bitches in the back and a pocket full stacks, take a match and spark up a lil bud and get blown away) On the bus in disgust with a 8-ball full of rocks in my pocket Nickel sacks in the other For po-pos who watch, can't stop, it's hot But I gotta make a profit for my baby and my mother Straight up hustler What's the mental frame of mind That nigga had to have the roll Be sold, or be poor up in these city streets Or with the pistol playin' for you Mr. Reaper Forgive those, I explode like C-4 so give me 50 feet Bustin shots in every direction A nigga stoppin my money from getting made I done witnessed public aid, people get sprayed, the tip raise And momma cry, why my bills can't get paid If I have to I'ma send cheese from blows Nobody can hurt me or run thugsta greed, GD's or foes Workin' the spot 'cause we need some clothes Who ever thought I'd be making money off of my CD's and shows My crib got gats in the hall, rats steady crawl Roaches comin' out the cracks in the wall On the tip, bust it with my back to the wall Work my way up to an ounce, now I'm back to a ball Now I fin to spend stacks at the mall Bend the blocks on barbers hopin' my profits stack a bit taller Twista AKA 'The Bitch Caller', bring your money to the mob Just to be a pimp-shit talker Come on and take a lil trip with a legit balla Chi-Shot callers (Shot up the chrome and let's swang) Tigers wetter than the wall (Some bitches in the back and a pocket full stacks, take a match and spark up a lil bud and get blown away) Come on and take a lil trip with a legit balla Chi-Shot callers (Shot up the chrome and let's swang) Tigers wetter than wall (Some bitches in the back and a pocket full stacks, take a match and spark up a lil bud and get blown away) If it's on, I gotta ride out with my mobstas, hmm-hmm If it's on, then I gotta ride out with the mobstas, hmm-hmm If it's on, I gotta ride out with my mobstas, hmm-hmm If it's on, I gotta ride out with my mobstas, hmm-hmm La-da-da, la-da-da, da-da-da-da, da-da (Mobstas) La-da-da, la-da-da, da-da-da-da, da-da (Mobstas) La-da-da, la-da-da, da-da-da-da, da-da (Mobstas) If it's on, I gotta ride out with my mobstas hmm-hmm (Mobstas)
Writer(s): Carl Terrell Mitchell, Samuel C. Lindley, Calvin Thomas, Jabari Bristow Lyrics powered by www.musixmatch.com
instagramSharePathic_arrow_out