Lyrics:
reach for me
I'm goin' after street glory
Niggaz die for the street glory
Go to trial, get tried for each story
And each nigga got a story
And Q.B.
H-town
(Yungstar)
Out H-town, showin surround by sound
Yesterday yall got mad when I shown nuthin but ground
Im talkin shit they didn't like
Ridin marble
All right, let's start with the most basic
Question there is: Are
You a religious man? Do you believe in God?
Well, that'll do for openers i
Think I
your whole clique bitch
I'm com'n, so wipe the cum up off my dick bitch
(Young Turk)
I got more weight then them niggas up state
My name,
back
Gotta keep it natural
True to the source blast off with some sassafras
Pat me on the backside
I'll remember that
It's an oracle
Omen radical
Now
to spill
I give off the impression it's no thing for us to kill
Around the way with, street corner game, Pat Sajak
Got kids to feed, you can't stop
Startin the whip
Just by the pressin the key
Idk why the fuck
They mad at me (Why)
I went and got it
I got it myself
Y'all can stay hatin
I'm takin
Should have held back, but you throwed the punch
'Spose to meet your girl but you packed a lunch
No D to the U to the G for you
Got a son on the way by
Should have held back, but you throwed the punch
'Spose to meet your girl but you packed a lunch
No D to the U to the G for you
Got a son on the way by
I play the curb
I never got caught by a undercover DT
Nah chill AT&T can't see me
You grab mics from the ones I left broken
Kid, don't front, you
I play the curb
I never got caught by a undercover DT
Nah chill AT&T can't see me
You grab mics from the ones I left broken
Kid, don't front, you
is a whole session
Name going to mention
I'm freshened
Asking everywhere the
Same fuckin question
In perfection
Need to make arrangement
Need to make
better not tell
Say goodbye to the old life, and enter the new
I done been traumatized with the shit I been through
Why you askin' questions bout shit
the dirt
Nigga, I leave you shell shocked
From project streets to cell blocks
Glock 45 with the tail cocked
Makin' jacks by no means
Pocket full of crack
[Chorus x2]
Still ridin clean, makin cheese, and gettin my dick sucked
Still makin cheese, ridin clean, and gettin my dick sucked
[Project Pat]
I
y'all tee'd fronting and brown nosing
While asking questions
Trynna figure what I'm doing next
Can't you see I'm working
Mom's sick and says she needs
I got a lot up on my plate
I exist in a space when my case to exist
Is a pace and a skip to
The grave from the crib
And it's not your fault if
I can be it
I was trying to feel you but you look familiar baby
I can see it
Way before the name and before the fame
I got a question
Where were you
love about her
Love to hang by herself
Love to stand in front
The mirror
Got nice long legs,
Look good in her
Skirts
And I have this
sack all by myself
Hit that intersection, I'm loaded up, I'm loafin' up
Got plenty routes, different directions, I'm never stressin'
And bitch, when I
Street, nigga, Roosevelt
(Track life forever, ever)
This the project I bang, look
I drive to school with a Taurus-9 (Stop playin'), bitch, I'm out here
when it's dirty still a hoe pulla
She wanna fuck my car im a go getta
Don't treat her like a star i'm a go-rilla
(Project Pat)
? like Alaska, make these
I made sure to change from my pajamas to real clothing and report to my keyboard in my living room by 5:00 PM every day, I had to write at least one
you will become a
Chorus x8
It's your own nigga Project Pat
I'm a G as in gorilla
all my life I want ot come clean
Why you flossin' all my dreams
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