Out of Luck
I'm from a city where they used to sell slaves
I'm talkin down by river
Where them niggas through shade
Nobody want see you winnin
Less you payin they way
Where ya boy turn rat
Just to get in the game
(That's Facts)
It's a hard knock life out here
Ya pay the price out here
You'll loose ya life out here
Diary lost his life at 12
Cold night out nights out here
That's why Im ridin with strap
Ain't no knife out here
Niggas say they want say they want smoke
They don't want that
Have them niggas dressed in the field
Like it's combat
All black fitted cap
Tennis shoes in a bag
Wat the bag for
So nigga we don't leave a track
Pistol on my side
And I'm ready just to meet the man
50 dots with a machete
I'm a reaper man
Bet tell y'all family you love them
When we beefing man
Cuz ima take soul to where you heaven
Man I'm ten for ten
I hope god really give me chance
Cuz if he don't
Then it's back kickin with my Friend
I'm loosin hope
Takin all the real out of the plan
They either end up in a bag
Or they leave on the Stand
All that aggravated flexinn
Have me at your crib
Pistol all in ya face
Give dat baby a bib
Take wat and leave the wat
Boy you crazy as shit
Man I'm all about a dollar
So I'm takin them zip
Puttin pressure on street
That's a hell of a grip
Whole team bout a bag
And they ready to flip
I done seen a whole lot
I can never forget
Seen my uncles in the pot
That's a hell of a mix
Seen my uncle close up shop
Cuz them feds got intense
We just some run away slave
Don't you ever forget
Mom told us count our days
When it come to them brick
We ain't listenin now we slaves
With a head full of shits
(Damn)
I'm talkin down by river
Where them niggas through shade
Nobody want see you winnin
Less you payin they way
Where ya boy turn rat
Just to get in the game
(That's Facts)
It's a hard knock life out here
Ya pay the price out here
You'll loose ya life out here
Diary lost his life at 12
Cold night out nights out here
That's why Im ridin with strap
Ain't no knife out here
Niggas say they want say they want smoke
They don't want that
Have them niggas dressed in the field
Like it's combat
All black fitted cap
Tennis shoes in a bag
Wat the bag for
So nigga we don't leave a track
Pistol on my side
And I'm ready just to meet the man
50 dots with a machete
I'm a reaper man
Bet tell y'all family you love them
When we beefing man
Cuz ima take soul to where you heaven
Man I'm ten for ten
I hope god really give me chance
Cuz if he don't
Then it's back kickin with my Friend
I'm loosin hope
Takin all the real out of the plan
They either end up in a bag
Or they leave on the Stand
All that aggravated flexinn
Have me at your crib
Pistol all in ya face
Give dat baby a bib
Take wat and leave the wat
Boy you crazy as shit
Man I'm all about a dollar
So I'm takin them zip
Puttin pressure on street
That's a hell of a grip
Whole team bout a bag
And they ready to flip
I done seen a whole lot
I can never forget
Seen my uncles in the pot
That's a hell of a mix
Seen my uncle close up shop
Cuz them feds got intense
We just some run away slave
Don't you ever forget
Mom told us count our days
When it come to them brick
We ain't listenin now we slaves
With a head full of shits
(Damn)
Credits
Writer(s): Huncho Pas
Lyrics powered by www.musixmatch.com
Link
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