(feat. A.C. Chill, L.T.)
Phat Money Records
SPM baby
Putting it down with that Phat Money Records
Dope House Records
Phat Stacks, A.C. Chill, L.T.
This one's Ghetto Tales
What you know about that?
[Chorus (2Xs)]
These are the tales, the Ghetto Tales
Dope sales and life is hell, trying to stay out of jail
I'm rolling H-town South Park backstreets
A.C. Chill all the O.G.'s know me
In that Bourbon with the candy paint
For deep most of my n***as ain't got no car that's why
we so deep
We left a funeral to see my homie's mamma cry
It always hurt me when any of my homies die
All of a sudden gun shots rang out
I guess these young G's plexin' gang bang clout
We pulled over I said "Let me out this b**h man"
One of these n***as finna get they wig split man
Pulled out my strap you know how the show goes
Somebody yelled out and yo here come the Po-Po's
I told my n***ax "Yo man I'll Catch you later"
Got pocket full of weed plus they got me on paper
Bailed around the corner to holla at my homie
Next thing you know the f**ing haters roll up on me
Damn, how much hating can a young n***a take?
First chance I get a mother f**er finna break
They caught me, now I'm in the jail cell pacing
Damn, a violation
Eighteen months is what I'm facing
[Chorus (2Xs)]
Im pushing weight trying to have it
Everything is flat
But at the same time I'm leaving n***as on their back
Up in the neighborhood I'm trying to stack a little cream
I'm paper chasing me and we trying to stack some green
And everything is far as bad when it comes to drama
I'm trying to make a little cash for me, Jay, and mamma
Ain't paying no bills but these n***as got me f**ed up
I rather sit on streets than see my a** locked up
And serving fiends is an everyday life thing
And from the cells chilling trying to have a nice day
And for this 420 Eastex life thing
I got the sk**s to hit a n***a from big mar man
And platinum sh** we gonna drop on the block-a-dee
Come watch my tongue twist wrecking with my boy "C"
Trying to survive make a meal with these ghetto dreams
We playa made plus we from the heart of S.E.
[Chorus (2Xs)]
SPM baby sitting dope fiends at the dead end
Fighting over sales with my motherf**ing best friend
Used to be broke and a**ed out
Now I buy Diamonds that make my wife pa** out
Bad route was a path I chose
Blasting hoes
At last I rose
I got cash and clothes
From the crack I sold to let you ba*tards know
Stacking dough sitting on gla** and vogues
My a** gonna show
I'm straight out of the slums
South Park where you get your car washed for crumbs
But these laws is on a cookout
I used to get took out
Three dollar pieces for my look out
Licensed cookie baker
That's my profession
Never have my dope in my own possession
n***as selling c**aine in my domain
I sneak up from the back and take you out with no pain
[Chorus (2Xs)]