Letter to You
(Drum Dummie)
I'ma keep it real on this one, nigga, ay-ay (D-D-DJ Swift on the track)
Quando Rondo, nigga
Talking 'bout me on the internet, waiting for me to write back
Got in my own lane and caught some fame, he didn't like that
This a letter to him, I'ma tell him how I feel
Is it me or him, like the fact I got a record deal
I ain't never went out bad and that's on neighborhood crip
How the fuck you say you raised me, and I met you last year?
I told my partners to chill, boy, you could've been killed
Something deep down been telling me don't you cock back the steel
'Cause I got something to lose, and you got something to prove
Going live on Facebook, flexing with all your tools
The only good advice you gave is take our pistol to school
Visits on my round killing me, or is it déjà vu?
'Cause it's too good to be true, is you really gon' shoot?
This a song to the fans but this a letter to you
How the fuck I bit your hand, and you ain't never did shit for me
Locked up, call Griffin, you couldn't send a couple cents to me
Drop down to my knees, Lord, do you hear me?
It's a dirty world, matter fact it's filthy
Judge held a grudge, I swear to God that I'm not guilty
My heart steady screaming out, "Lord, please heal me"
If it really was some pressure, why the fuck you ain't gon' slide on me?
Put my trust in DJ, then that nigga testified on me
Double back, come strapped with the Mac
That day he tried to put that fire on me
No face, no case, I emptied out that four-five on me
In the city where I'm from, I swear it's kill or be killed
You gotta stay up on your pivot, anybody can get it
Before I walk up out the door, I swear I'm tuckin' my steel
Mama be praying every night because my city get wicked, yeah yeah
In the city where I'm from, I swear it's kill or be killed
You gotta stay up on your pivot, anybody can get it
Before I walk up out this door, I swear I'm tuckin' my steel
Mama be praying, 'cause she know that my city get wicked, yeah yeah
Yeah, yeah (gang)
Yeah, yeah (speak them facts, nigga)
Yeah, yeah (speak them facts, nigga)
Uh, uh, Quando Rondo nigga (grrah)
City is wicked
You know that my city is wicked, uh (pow!)
I'ma keep it real on this one, nigga, ay-ay (D-D-DJ Swift on the track)
Quando Rondo, nigga
Talking 'bout me on the internet, waiting for me to write back
Got in my own lane and caught some fame, he didn't like that
This a letter to him, I'ma tell him how I feel
Is it me or him, like the fact I got a record deal
I ain't never went out bad and that's on neighborhood crip
How the fuck you say you raised me, and I met you last year?
I told my partners to chill, boy, you could've been killed
Something deep down been telling me don't you cock back the steel
'Cause I got something to lose, and you got something to prove
Going live on Facebook, flexing with all your tools
The only good advice you gave is take our pistol to school
Visits on my round killing me, or is it déjà vu?
'Cause it's too good to be true, is you really gon' shoot?
This a song to the fans but this a letter to you
How the fuck I bit your hand, and you ain't never did shit for me
Locked up, call Griffin, you couldn't send a couple cents to me
Drop down to my knees, Lord, do you hear me?
It's a dirty world, matter fact it's filthy
Judge held a grudge, I swear to God that I'm not guilty
My heart steady screaming out, "Lord, please heal me"
If it really was some pressure, why the fuck you ain't gon' slide on me?
Put my trust in DJ, then that nigga testified on me
Double back, come strapped with the Mac
That day he tried to put that fire on me
No face, no case, I emptied out that four-five on me
In the city where I'm from, I swear it's kill or be killed
You gotta stay up on your pivot, anybody can get it
Before I walk up out the door, I swear I'm tuckin' my steel
Mama be praying every night because my city get wicked, yeah yeah
In the city where I'm from, I swear it's kill or be killed
You gotta stay up on your pivot, anybody can get it
Before I walk up out this door, I swear I'm tuckin' my steel
Mama be praying, 'cause she know that my city get wicked, yeah yeah
Yeah, yeah (gang)
Yeah, yeah (speak them facts, nigga)
Yeah, yeah (speak them facts, nigga)
Uh, uh, Quando Rondo nigga (grrah)
City is wicked
You know that my city is wicked, uh (pow!)
Credits
Writer(s): Damion Williams, Tevin Revell, Tyquian Bowman
Lyrics powered by www.musixmatch.com
Link
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