Lyrics:
can't have enough
Homies wanna go and break the law cuz they hearing Three Six said it
I ain't lying I'm feeling like Project Pat if I said it I meant it
Lemme start off by sayin you a fuck boy wanna be
Claimin I ain’t flexing I ain’t got a fuckin Rollie
That might be true but my glasses are Versace
and explode
I grew up pops and a O
Mix match socks on my sole cops on a stroll
Spendin' knots on my gold
I got Ns in my jeans for Benzes and screens
Cause I
organized plan
Get a van move down by the river man
Throw me a coconut, crack it open and drink it up
A bit of herb mixed with spliff tobacco
Good for a sore
back
And I live in the back of the jungle
Lions, tigers, bears, oh my
Hear the siren, walk up, [*gunshot* *gunshot*] drive by
Shooters, looters, federal
tortellini smokin' project pat to that ghetto greenie
If I let her in can't let her leave me that p got water that letter steamy
More a smoker you can keep
Slay gang shit
Yo this the life we live
And that's word to project pat
Brown skin shorty
And she wants to throw it back
New year same me
Never
like pancake-ahh
Foldin' my cheese like the leaves in my hand rake-ahh
Project Pat-ter
Attracted to dime pieces
I'm dirty southern, French braids,
like pancake-ahh
Foldin' my cheese like the leaves in my hand rake-ahh
Project Pat-ter
Attracted to dime pieces
I'm dirty southern, French braids,
western with niggas in two cars
Tomorrow hoes gotta go, cause me and B flyin back to Tennessee
Tryin to see bout some cheese
They got niggas ballin, but
niggas through my project maze
That cop, he got a death wish
He run behind niggas until you breathless
Everyday he makin' ten arrests, shit
My nigga,
ho
Still rep the 334
They don't never show me love tho
That's ok bro
Bel Air rose
By the case load
Got em all on my payroll
N----s sweet like Caro
stress
When you let a young nigga have it
Cooked raw Raised up in the projects
Where they stripped and so cars
And end up running from the law
That's just
bitches in the project
I tried to creep threw the hood and them Feds tried to book me
He said what you doing back here in New O. I say I love ghetto
games, man
Told that nigga that I love him then I watch the shit change
I catch a case before I let you play up in my face
And you gon' pay me back for
OG pulled up on the scene in a wig
When you running from the Feds, you can't be seen by the pigs
Y'all don't know all the things I seen and I did
What's that another thousand on his head
Half way across the border for its found out by the feds
I'm done with all that fucking talking hit his
ride
She put a nigga on with his own
Dope spot when the streets got
High
She show me how to run it how
To shout down the shop when
Feds drive by
She
took one in his face
By somebody he knew
Stretched in the project hallway
Fatal car flipped
He got ejected out the front windshield
Broke most of his
Many situations showed me that these n****s fraud
I don't trust a single soul, unless I'm talking to my dogg
If ye ain't fucking with the squad
Then
lived in the ghetto)...or the projects
But I wear my Tim boots and Hi-Tecs, and I wrecks havoc
And if you try to play me I won't have it
jealous cause I got it by the tons
Twenty fifty hundred, is how I count my bills
Then I take it slow because it runs into the mills
Brothers try to step
back
And I live in the back of the jungle
Lions, tigers, bears, oh my
Hear the siren, walk up, [*gunshot* *gunshot*] drive by
Shooters, looters, federal
with it, cost me you can't fucking pay
Shot up my ex behind the ceiling 'cause this bitch don't love me, nigga
Shots fired off right by the building, I
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