Ya Price

Mad taxing
Past tense the white boy Ed
He got fucked up
Check out the blues he had
Big supplier on the compound, news
He got spoons, hot
Plus got knocked out his ass balloons
Hands was holding dandies
Owed money from candy he bought
Smoked the cost, now his anty is lost
He selling everything, niggas yelling
Yo I want mines in doubles, boxed in ah bubble
Paying cats foh they troubles, couldn't sleep right
Feeling every night, the night
He got bagged from killah's holding sharpened knives and pipes
Yo ah week pass, goons put his arm in ah cass
He got cut bad, slashеd from his neck to his ass
Took his tv, trunk of cosmetics and his panasonic
Shook his house, found fivе bags of chronic
He on ice na, foh life, yo, should've thought twice, days from the world
But ya street dream is over
You reap what you sow, ya street dream is over
The price paid na, inna grace
Shit was cold bra
Shit was cold bra

Mad intelligent
Stay revalent like I'm cobra
Down twenty
I ain't want nothing but his honey
Told the kid, son, you can keep the money
Punanny and nanny goat coats
So just run me, everything that belong to me
And if I'm wrong, then I loan you a g
You be on the P's like Alicia Keys
Paraplegic on the seas
On jet ski's, breeze
I'm coldah than freeze
Yo the price paid
Still catch me shoppin at rite an aid
Read my book, turn the right page
You see trees and chicks at ah lite age
Pheins fucked up, fam corrupt
Life is ah big cup, we fucked
Most of my niggas still stuck
Still pluck you like ah duck doe
My niggas nuts, going nut so
I put it in my writin, let my pen flow, from corner stores
Whatevah the streets blow
Whatevah we reach
We know, yo
And let life blow



Credits
Writer(s): Justin Cross, Johnnie Maye
Lyrics powered by www.musixmatch.com

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