Lyrics: Christian Browne/Jecori Davis/Markevion Dean
Music: Christian Browne/Markevion Dean/Jecori Davis
I get on the mic
I get on the mic, nigga don't know what (you know, you play too much)
But I just let my soul bleed on the track
Hey now, listen though, don't ever leave me
And don't deceive me (turn it up, yes sir, Ski)
I'm tired of playing games, lonely in that bus
It feel like everything fading, oh-oh (feel like everything fading)
Don't tell me lies and let my feelings grow
Just tell me if you finna go, baby
And I'll let you leave
Because I love you like I made you
I could never hate you
But don't run back when all my troubles gone
Just be that bitch who got my back pick up the telephone
I'm sorry if I call, collect they found another gun
Them crackers got us on that gang list
They know how we talk, that be that slang, that be that gang shit
Bitch, I bet I leave with every nigga that I came with
They say I'm gon' die behind these niggas that I hang with
But that's alright
Big dawg and I don't bark, baby, I'm all bite
I hope you see me touch a million, that's a hell of a sight
Two pretty bitches and a Perky, that's a hell of a night
Incarceration taught me patience, yeah
That nigga say his grandma do voodoo, but he ain't Haitian
I'm in my cell, I'm sharpening my woolie on the pavement
I'm praying for the best but for the worst, I make arrangements
Please, don't get ****ed over, yeah, we Ahki but we dangerous
Oh-oh, and my bitch'll say the same thing, yeah
Promote the violence through the sign out that chain gang
I'm tired of playing games, lonely in that bus
It feel like everything fading, oh-oh
Don't tell me lies and let my feelings grow
Just tell me if you finna go, baby
And I'll let you leave
Because I love you like I made you
I could never hate you
But don't run back when all my troubles gone
Just be that bitch who got my back, pick up the telephone
I'm sorry if I call, collect they found another gun