Project Pat:
I only fuck wit those who only fuck wit me
a sucker play for games a man play keeps
i keeps me a nine millimeter just in case
a cowards in my face these bullets he gon taste
a waste of your life steppin wrong im on trees besta leave me alone besta go make some cheese enemies come in
all shape, four sides colors
could be your best friend, cousin, or brothers
I'll rob'em all just to see who got the fatest stack
walked in the bank put the loot in the croker sack
slapped on the guard four times for he passed out
eyes on the blow and my pockets was assed out
had on trench coat wig and some goggles if'n you resist
you may not see tommorow im in there outta there the police
couldn't get me but i made a slip up had a trick wit me.
Chorus X2:
Dont turn around (Give me the fucking cheese trick)
Dont make a sound(Show me where the keys at)
Lay it on the ground(knowing that your pockets fat)
For i buck you down(and im quicks to do that)
Nigga starting bragging in his hood bout the robbery
wasn't long then for somebody dropped the dime on me
imma be the one who they cant get to they picked the boy up
run his mouth just like a fool he gon get me fucked
but imma have to get to him before the police do
caught up with him night and day not him and is crew
sprang down chelsie ave kinda in the evening for this mutha fuckers
death dog i was fiend'n
he was looking at me strange like imma catcher
i done hopped out with the thang let hollar at you fool
where you been dog? (My momma got sick man) fuck that gotta do with you?
(hold up i aint your bitch man)I heard you were talking your mutha fucking lips loose
(Nah it aint like that dog i aint no damn fool)
Looking in his eyes i can see that he was so scared i squeezed on the trigger with the gun to his fore head.
Chorus X2:
Dont turn around (Give me the fucking cheese trick)
Dont make a sound(Show me where the keys at)
Lay it on the ground(knowing that your pockets fat)
For i buck you down(and im quicks to do that)
Blew the top out his skull now they wont me dead
all the niggas in his hood, police and the feds
stepped out of westwood way out of the side on the other side of town
somewhere i can hide i done threw my life away hunted by them by pigs
robbing every other day drops in off my nig they done found my where about
bouts to do me in kicking in the front door and i was in the den
sk was under the couch snatch it off the wham
open fire on them hoes i didn't give ah damn
blood stream was full of dope
pump off coke alief feds had me under a scope
and ah heffa beam
rifle bullet threw my throat choking hit da floor
gun powder in my mouth knocking heavens door
street life done took me out and that shit aint fake
i done fuck myself off cause ah bama state.