Scarface

Scarface - Dyin Wit'cha Boots On lyrics

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Gotta keep my drawers up  shit's gettin hard now
 These motherfuckin cops be plantin shit on these niggas
 Simply because these niggas got bank accounts that's bigger
 I just can't get no peace from you motherfuckin rollers
 Everytime I pull my Benz or what  'cha pull me over
 I'm sick of motherfuckers who be checking Whitey's coke tip
 Blacker than a motherfucker, sweat me 'bout my *?dope-sip*?
 Niggas just take your cut and get your ass up out my face
 The only thing you probably get from me is a cock-sucking 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 fuck with a million dollar nigga
 They got you mixed up, fixed up at the Segas, shookin Indo
 Gettin fucked up in the gank-hole
 The only way you'll whip that motherfucker is when you whip that
 motherfucker
 And we choke the motherfucker (Me stuck the motherfucker!)
 So when you hear my song and wanna get it on
 You better come prepared motherfucker, you dyin wit'cha boots on

 Chorus:

 (Put ya foot in my shit and let me try on your hood)
 Dyin wit'cha boots on
 (Put ya foot in my shit and let me try on your hood)
 Yeah

 Interlude:(prison guard talking to inmate)

 Guard: Do you know how many years you're facing inside?
 25 to life and that's on the real
 So you better snitch on your partner
 Inmate: Fuck that! It was Brad Dawg, I ain't goin out by myself

 Niggas gettin caught, doin time, so they snitchin
 They pickin niggas up on a funky ass suspicion
 We'll be goin down for some questioning we think
 And end up gettin hit with the fuckin kitchen sink
 Racketeer and laundering, Kingpin wondering
 If they got some unsolved murders, then give him some of them
 Just because we're niggas and they figure we're no smarter
 We sell each other albums, start frattin on our partners
 They start bringin up shit that happened back in '85
 And then comes the largest jury, bitch, they fuckin 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 y'all gonna have to die in this bitch, bitch!
 Lobbin wit'cha white suits on
 And dyin wit'cha motherfuckin boots on

 (Put ya foot in my shit and let me try on your hood
Get this song at:
bol.com
amazon.com

Copyrights:

Author: ?

Composer: ?

Publisher: ?

Details:

Language: English

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