Lyrics:
the Projects like Pat, Mista Don't Play
Witnessed some atrocities I won't say
Down For My N*****
I knew I would see C-Murder
Set the tables, brought the food
on 'em
Dope money with a band on it
Half gold, we got a hand on it
D-boys still ball the same
Just gotta little bit of glam on it
Yah
I got flames
10 new plays off a laptop
I just made her bag up the dope with her ass out
I be in the field I ain't ever need a mascot
Feeling like dope boy cash out
dope
And have you feeling like a duck
Straight plucked
Fucking with me you straight fucked
Just lube up if you want to play it tough boy
Them armor
debuted and put
The city on wax a lot of Biggie comparisons
We all was aware of them
But that wasn't my MO
I just thought he was dope
Can't understand why
Cookin dope like oakara
Don’t call your girl for 30 minutes
I left nut all over her
If you smokin, reggie bush
Then you cannot smoke with me
If you wear
[Serv-on]
Boy, I think this the second time you done passed up this sign you goin' the
wrong way main.
[Fiend]
Slow ya role, slow ya role, ya
I Hit that blunt now everything at ease
Just like Bigfoot I be in them trees
Project pat I want dope I want cheese
I'm blowing kush on the moon feel
It's going down going down
Three 6 Mafia mafia
Project Pat y’all know the business
Imma tell you motherfuckers something man
Some real shit tell 'em
You're bluffin, I play Poker I'm callin all bets
Local boy, when's the last time you all left?
I don't even know where the fuck I'm goin' on tour next
up
Niggas done play wit' his people Now they gone bust'em up
Some of them snortin' dope some of them bag that kill
Some of them jus bout that
Diplomats, you know they rowdy, rowdy
145th and Broadway, them boys real
You know them boys they don't play
Killa ayo
I'm bouncing through an ounce or two
My
boy!
Dope boy wit' a guitar
Born and raised in the U.S.A
By the way of New Orleans where the killas stay
But that's OK, yea, that's alright! ya
I
their shorts and blouses
Ha ha take off my trousers, ya
Ya don't know nothing bout this!
Ay! I'm a dope boy wit a guitar
Hey daddy can ya let me
for the racks (Racks)
All them pussies hatin', you know I gotta tax
Dope boy out the trap
Pirates made a hunnid racks (Skr)
AR-15 shoot (Grrah) a hunnid
red Rum! (x4)
[Project Pat]
A .44 bullet shell took my niggas life
Triggers pulled by some young niggas on that white
He used to fuck with them boys
she in love with a dope boy
And she ain't worried 'bout them other hoes, old boy Mike got one
Don't be ashamed of the projects shawty, let 'em know
tried
I move by results, not by friends or things that's televised
Up or it's down, handle it like men, nigga I ain't never hiding
I'm in that Bentley, me
a beretta
Need y'all to run it back, boo, where the dollars at?
When I'm off that liquor, I feel like I'm Project Pat
Bitch, you really, really wack,
that's the plug's
Boy, you need to stop it, ayy
Feelin' myself, I'm the hottest, Louis V Prada and Balenciaga
I still hit the projects
We paid, I can't do
Blast to smithereens
Lap they asses criss cross
They jeans is backwards
Raps mastered
Mixing fish and grits and greens
Mister don't play (project pat)
Go
when I start pullin' cards
'cause J will be the Barrier
2 Dope will be the Carrier
And Project Born is Sworn to put a bullet in your derriere
It's
my shoes, made it even worse. I worked in an environment where you're judged by your shoes. You dare not wear scuffed shoes. You dare not wear
stay solid
I grew up 'round dope boys, I don't need no stylist
I got grown man money, can't be actin' childish (no childish)
I been through too much
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