Lyrics:
guys out in CHI-town, the whole cali
Westside, LA, bay area, Dego, Houston, Dallas, Memphis
Keep it krump, Detroit, i see everybody
Every hood, every
This is a story about a kid named Patrick
And I'll tell you off the bat that it's gon' be tragic
As it is for them that's from where he from
Pat
cock it ain't no telling with them thugs
Dealers straight out da projects only felon that'll bust
Some shit you don't discuss
Snitches they get them
and keep up and move right alone
The day is kind of off but I can get it on
I'm taking it step by step and when the night is in depth
It's cool 'cause
for their pack
Frankie lights it for him and pats him on the back
An' throws a bottle at a milk truck
And as it breaks, he grabs his nuts
An' they
Ayy it's Kodak man
And when my mixtape drop I swear to God
Y'all gon' be filthy project baby
Okay
Look, jit gon' hit a lick
Quick and he can rap (He
all like a tool
He's taught in his school
From the start by the rule
That the laws are with him
To protect his white skin
To keep up his hate
So he
She sheds tears for that dope boy
Shit, it is what it is for that dope, boy
Handle minor biz for that dope, boy
But then tell you by the Greyhound
on yo' ho
Legs are on the stove, P-IM-P on the low
Gators swangin' out, swangers hangin' out
Never bangin', I got work I slang it out
Keep a yellow pro,
me, I'm better off just left alone
And I ain't even tryna go there with record sales
I'm just tryna keep it humble and respect myself
Say, "What
Oh yeah, I got the perfect song for the kids to sing
And all my people that's
Drug dealin' just to get by
Stackin' money 'til it get sky high
proper term is laugh
Brothers who are snakes, I label them as fakes
Instincts to travel up the hood path, c'mon
It's like that y'all (keep on)
Freak
by a dirty stove
Trials keep me strong, hope keep me happy
But I'm only human, so these niggas want to clap me
The drug game over, but there's money
blow I guess
From Bankhead up to your projects
No more stress, now I'm straight, now I get it, now I take
Time to think, before I make mistakes just
a mere glock
Place it up to your back
Fat sacks your smocking on
Mack man with a tone
P-A-T bout the lout
Riding by then I shoot
Who's to say cheefin hay
what?)
It's a wrap, we on the way to the house
By 3:45 I'll be kickin' her out (ayy)
Patty cake, patty cake, microwave (microwave)
Suckas make
Pat and the L lavish shootin' Teflon
Just a few homies who I grew up in the hood with me
And the ones in Orange Blossom Hubert University, yeah
It's
air, what you want?
Commas'll bring you where you want, huh
Tryin' not to sin it, but it's hard
Projects, ask your girl what you want
Nigga she will
but its off, I keep missing this shit
I'm high but I try to stay focused wide eye
Looking dead at the chips, I blink, they dip
(Don't let go)
Like
done worked itself loose
It's got so many dotted eighth notes in it
I'd keep her under fifty beats per minute
I mean, that's just me talkin', it's
it hood no matter where you are
Cause you come from the ghetto
Love 'em from the ghetto
You're you the type I like
That's why I keep you right you off
V12s don't fuck with my Vs
Highest price hood bitches that scuff up they knees
Finally made your first million, but what's it to me?
Million dollar
niggas like to request
This around-the-clock shit
But I do it for my (hood niggas)
With rockets who learned how to survive
And fatten them pockets
With 'x'
proper term is laugh
Brothers who are snakes, I label them as fakes
Instincts to travel up the hood path, c'mon
It's like that y'all (keep on)
Freak
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