Lyrics:
they doin' bad He ain't worried 'bout it, he just keep his head up Every time we come outside, we say, "Look at they dirty ass." Some days, my dog don't
I'm in this to win it
This life is catching up to me by the minute, Look
I'm not gon be the reason I end up back here
Working the slums of the Six
its either do or die
Don't break the code what i live by
In the streets wit it its either do or die
Drank muddy in a double cup in da hood wit it still
my project English
And if you don't like it, you can kiss my penis
[Repeat: x4]
We done hit you up, lit you up, twist you up (ooh!)
We done
little cousin Bubble swatches and carry a couple oxes
Keep a deuce, deuce by his ankle and get it poppin'
You know, we be the boys clockin' the grave yard
the hottest
My little cousin Bubble swatches and carry a couple oxes
Keep a deuce, deuce by his ankle and get it poppin'
You know, we be the boys clockin'
hood rich n famous
Them niggas talking bout it but they know we gangstas
Tommy guns, army guns quick to bang ya
Pull up at the club brand new fresh
jacked Project Pat
never fake the deal all about a meal
keep a strap for the wolf pack out here trying to steal
cause I still think some of y'all
want
[Intro: Project Pat]
Yes sir hypnotized mutherfuckin minds my boy Lil Wyte
about to put it down for you mutherfuckin hoe's just
like this it's goin
on
It's dark and gloomy, three pigs on a duty
It's not a fable, it's hood lullabye, where the brothers die
[Hell Razah]
Project playgrounds, death singin'
breath, by the time I flip to the next flow
This sho' is real, this is the deal, guns I'm runnin
Gotta make it out of town to flip my {shit} and keep it
soul
It never could reach the ultimate goal
So keep on knowing and believing
All that God has promised you would be yours to receive
Preach, Church,
it there (yeah)
Catch a hole through the logo on your shirt
Why you rappin' 'bout the game
When you don't know how it work?
Me and Project Pat
on fucking cellphones
I been going through it yea my life really a hell hole
Only mom and girl know
Only god and my niggas showed
Project baby but ma sure we
'Grams, what?
Playin' cards and they bored
Members of gangs, livin' by and dyin' by the sword (wheel it)
Block parties, food stamp debit cards
Your hood
be weary, watch for caution, yo be warned
By Dre and out the project born
Capable in any and every
Cause yo I get heavy, when introduced to a medly
the hood
But them rappers don't live there they live in Hollywood
It ain't about where you at it's about where you from
If you ever go back they might
I said I'm cooler than a
Fan fresh like it's Easter
Pull up on that banshee be
Like Hasta la vister
Heser thought that's what they
All say skeezers
I
can't have enough
Homies wanna go and break the law cuz they hearing Three Six said it
I ain't lying I'm feeling like Project Pat if I said it I meant it
niggers with me on a,
So I recommend your fagot ass to walk by, we movin' money
Touch the sky the, the more about the might dollar
Let's keep it real, ya
(rollin)
by the night time our pockets is swollen (swollen)
from dust to dawn we stay posted up in project homes
keep a plastic tone y'all want it bring it
to come out the hood, in cuffs or a casket
Or crazy, or shootin' three pointer baskets
Or maybe, it's the rap shit, all type of tactics
We use to get dough,
dealers
And cold hearted killers
Could it be it's in my blood
Cause my mom sold drugs?
She used to bust slugs and
Surround herself by thugs
Made mistakes by
some motherfucking shit happen, man
It's your boy Yung Joc, you know, Block Entertainment
And my motherfucking nigga Trae, asshole by nature
Ay, Trae,
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