Trick Daddy - Gangsta Livin' lyrics

rate me

I know 'Pac woulda loved this one here

[Chorus: Trick Daddy]

This gangsta livin, weavin dope dealin, oh how it's changed

It's gettin strange, and dangerous, but that's the way shit goes

[Trick Daddy]

This nigga needs no introductions

I'm on this book, and I'm stuck, I'm really the wrong one to fuck wit

See T-Double known for startin problems but

K-cutter be the problem solver, if I

sell you a book nigga stick it

Cause for every you check you slippin they can call me Flipper

I only I missed a few niggaz (uh-huh)

But he lost a couple more vis-a kidney and his liver

Had to tell him mind me a nigga

I was like uh-huh, click click, c'mere, don't run nigga

All I wanna know is

Where yo' connect, where the sack, where the money where the blow is

I heard papi got them freighters

Now either he gon', give 'em to me, or a nigga gon' take 'em

The dope game's just too overrated

And to tell y'all the truth a lot of y'all ain't gon' make it

Done went from crack slingers to R&B singers

Before the mic's on, you was already singin

It's just a song was a big hit

He named me and his bitch on the remix [sing]

[Chorus - 2X]

[Trick Daddy]

And to hell with bein a man about it

Shit they got fo' niggaz and one gun, fuck bein 21

Somebody better tell 'em

And put him up on {?} somebody fuck around and kill him

You see cause snitches get stitches

And there ain't that much of a difference between tellin and snitchin

And I ain't gon' keep on talkin to you niggaz

I'm gon' walk right up to you niggaz and go off on you niggaz

And I ain't leavin no witnesses

And don't get drunk and confess to none of y'all misses

See I know how to control my Hennessy

I speak no ingles, play crazy like them Dominicans

See cause poppa was a rolling stone

He said, son get your gun, it's a war and it's on

So y'all go on and bob your head to the song

Throw up the 4's for the niggaz, that's dead and gone

[Chorus - 2X]

[Trick Daddy]

I'm tired of smokin 'bama-ass weed

Niggaz out there sellin backyard boogies full o' stems and seeds

They whoopin the rocks and we compressin the coke

They makin it hard for them {?} to smoke

I went to jail tryin to get high; nigga told me

to go to hell went and called him, told him come get me out

So our father, who art in heaven

It must be the devil cause somethin wrong with these niggaz

Nope - and crazy ain't the word

They say the stupid shit like Trick why don't you front a nigga a bird

Fo' what, so you can smoke it up?

Impress hoes, buy clothes, and make a nigga come fuck you up?

The game hard on a player

You coulda started with a block and now workin just for quarter fare

With all the cards I sold the hoes left me all by myself

And the game don't even care!

[Chorus - 2X]