Cappadonna - Stories lyrics

rate me

Little Mike with the big head, He used to come around

Rob niggas on the block like he wasn't getting feed

He wore them all red outfits, His color was red

Tear drop in the corner of his eye like Lil' Wayne

Nose always running cause he sniffed cocaine

He used to come around with JoJo in this little white truck

On some South Shore shit, Like they ain't give a fuck

Now I ain't supposed to tell ya'll they sell guns round here

That cripple made dudes, And some got diarrhea

Jugs on every block but we live out here

And Staten Island be my nigga, Ben, Lilz, And Pop

Beating niggas up on the ave and take they rocks

Slim kid with the glass eye that know how to box

Staten Island's popular son got cut with the ox

See us racing down the terrace avoiding the cops

Cracks be in they asshole make they asshole hot

Run, If you ever pack a nice size gun

Or get caught with that shit then you fucked up son

Ayo, This one right here goes out for my Gee Street clique

My G's from Gee Street, Stack G's on some G shit

Narcs are circling sharks, Them Gee Street dicks

Five bucks fills the Dutch, Them Gee Street Knicks

Why my peoples had to go down for them Gee Street hits

Yo, I smells a, Someone a Gee Street snitch

Son slandered my name on that Gee Street strip

Yo, Heard that Dread ran him off the Gee Street clique

Picture hard to scale, It's heavy white, It's very hype

But every night the block smell like chicken on the grill

You ain't chef'n hard for real, You had ten grams B.C.

Before cooked, You wound up getting seven on your scale

You shook, Stuck like the elevator doors

Stoned like Scram, Leathafase and Kawz, What

Yeah, Yo you's a lame bitch

Claiming you thing, You sang snitch

Meanwhile meet with the Marshall pointing at named pics

Your street credibility's shaky now

You better relocate before them hood dudes eat your face

But it seems you ready to meet your fate

So I'm a guess that you ready to die, On some Carlito's Way

So now you back on the ave, Two-five in the stash

Looking for someone to blast, So you can see your grave

Can't make no money now, Everybody's acting foul

It's all cause you didn't have no money for trial

We're not done yet, You see your way

And yet you got gagged and hog tied, Corn chip

You a Frito Lay, You better move out quick yo

Leave those trays, And get snitching out your life son

True G's don't stray