Lyrics:
saturday
What a tragedy flowers for the family
Powder in my nap sack
Running through the projects
Tryna get a stack back
I got my SK bout to get my MAC back
Committee, pat'na
It's H-U-E-Y (yup), whom fly G five (yup)
And by the look in my eyes she have nice thighs (oh)
What her mama done gave her done grew
at
Runnin' through the streets like a stray cat
Like that Good Times show it makes me go
Hmmm, mmm, mm
Up in the projects, it gets no iller
With true
the teacher
Bumping Project Pat bitch I pour up out the liter
I snort K I was never into needles
I got fur on my coat like a cheetah
Drink the whole my bottle n
okay okay it's Heavy D again
Hallelujah I'm on your T.V. screen again
You see me on your MTV and on your BET
and on your local focal point video show
me pop my trunk
Show you my amps and my Mossberg pump
Because when I pull it most niggers run
Fool niggers stay and get hit by the ricochet
for my raw power move
Glock 19 for casket and flower moves
For chumps tryin' to stop my flow
And what they don't know will
Show on the autopsy
Went
Posters on my wall of Project Pat
Others from Memphis too it was all a dream
White boys where I'm from mostly cynical
Hold onto my focus with a broken dream
and your uptight suit,
Show us some funnies that are better than daddies,
Or bake us some cakes that are better than mommies,
Or give us your witties that
tat shit that on my skin
Every projects got a Kim
Fucking to get a come up
We grinding till the summer
On the Coli block wrapping block work with Hummer
at
Knife Talk no feature Project Pat
Lonely nights spent by myself
How is it possible to love oneself
Shut out from the world just me and my pen
Writing
we grown
But she stay mad at a nigga all the time
She says it's hard but she loves me though
I could tell by how she fucked me though
She just
Say Girl Project 2000
This Nigga
For you . . .U heard Me
J.D & Project huh
Chorus: repeat 3x
Ooh Shit girl
you on Fire
Let This Cold boy
Straight
East coast grumpy hoes
And my west coast girl got her own condo
Got me 'bout to buy a
Crib by the Hollywood O, oh
It's - that nigga they be checkin' for
show on the autopsy
Went to see Papi, to cop me a brick
Asked for some consignment, he wasn't tryin to hear it
Smoking mad Newports cause I'm due in
and that's a fact
Show Dem Golds like Im Project Pat (Ayy)
Blinded sluggs, get the fuck back
Buck down 'fore you whacked
Get ran up on like a diss track (Woo)
At a dirty lonely road
The moon stands by
Claiming everything she wants
As we should know
Nothing move behind the stones
As Earth had stopped
Blurry
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
[Chorus - Project Pat]
In the hood stackin funds
Got me feelin real pimpish
Purple kush in my lungs
Got me feelin real pimpish
Got carrots in
she got a knack for my raps
That's a fact
Inspired her to dance in the show rooms
I say I don't do it for the profit
But if it comes with it, then
the neighborhood
People nod 'cause it's understood
Mr. Henry comes out to stand
A wave and shout-out
To the man
Ask the birds singin'
I am the man
By
here!
Alright! What up y'all? Welcome to the show
I'm Shaggy like you don't fuckin' know
This is my sidekick Fat Pat
He goes "Ha ha ha ha"
Oh yea that's that baby right there
Naw my lil project bitch man
Yea hahaha
Project bitch my lil baby she on that
Scamming or robbing no problem she
Tried to show them the way
They was just trynna steal my wave
Why you lie to me
Lied straight to my face
I knew you was a snake
Tell by the look
Discuss these show by project pat Lyrics with the community:
Report Comment
We're doing our best to make sure our content is useful, accurate and safe.
If by any chance you spot an inappropriate comment while navigating through our website please use this form to let us know, and we'll take care of it shortly.
Attachment
You need to be logged in to favorite.
Log In