Dyin Wit'cha Boots On

Trouble seems to catch a motherf**ker with his cards down Gotta keep my drawers up, shit's gettin hard now These motherf**kin cops be plantin shit on these niggas Simply cause these niggas got bank accounts that's bigga I just can't get no peace from u motherf**kin rollers Everytime I pull my Benz or what watch cha pull me over I'm sick of motherf**kers who be checkin Whitey's coke tip Blacker than a motherf**ker, sweat me bout` dope sip Niggas just take your cut and get yo a*s out my face The only thing you probably get from me is a cock s*cking pistol case Unless you plan on plantin a lil' somethin in my shit Just because you ain't got shit, bitch Give em a badge and a trigger and that makes em figure That they can f**k with a million dolla nigga They got u mixed up, fixed up in the Segas, shookin Indo Getting f**ked up in the gank hole The only way you'll whip that motherf**ker is when you whip that Motherf**ker And we choke the motherf**ker (Me Stuck the motherf**ker!) So when you hear my song and wanna get it on You better come prepared motherf**ker. You dyin wit cha boots on. Chorus: Put your foot in my shit and let me try on your hood Dyin wit cha boots on Put your foot in my shit and let me try on your hood Yeah Interlude(prison guard talkin' to inmate): Guard: Do you know how many years you're facin inside? 25 to life and that's on the real So you better snitch on your partner Inmate: f**k that! It was Brad Dawg, I ain't goin out by myself. Niggas getting caught, doin time so they snitchin They pickin niggas up on funky suspicion We'll be goin down for some questionin we think And end up gettin hit wit the f**kin kitchen sink Rackteer and laundering, Kingpin wondering If they got some unsolved murders then give them some of them Just because we're niggas and they figure we're no smarter We sell each other albums, start frattin our partners They start bringin up shit that happened back in 85 And then comes the largest jury bitch they f**kin time You might as well play the state Cos you come to day for day And sellin out your homeboys ain't the shit Cos ya'll gon have to die in this bitch, bitch Lobbin wit cha white suit on And dyin wit cha motherf**kin boots on Put ya foot in my shit and let me try on ya hood