Project Pat

Project Pat - Roll Wit It lyrics

rate me

(Chorus)

If you boys got beef we can

Roll wit it

In da club or da street we can

Go wit it

It don't make me none

Blow for blow wit it

Crack his head wit a gun

I'ma sho split it

(Project Pat)

In Hollywood at the stop sign

Watchin out for one time

Clean on them things

Niggas hate cause I'm bout mine

I'm on that weed

So the car's kinda smokey

The glock's in the stash

Cause I'm dodgin the pokey

Its hard on tha street

Niggas livin like a catfish

A project killa, four kids

and a fat bitch

Try to flip e'ry quarter ounce

Ain't no credit barred

We accept cash, merchandise

or ya ebit(EBT) card

Like to start shit

At the club we be flexin

And we'll kill a bitch

At these hoes we be beckin

North North to the full

My game they respectin

A rope to the bumper

You get drug by yo neck-in

Don't come around here

You'z betta reckin

You get ya ass blowed off

For playin and jeckin

Down in this dirty

Only real muhfuckas rule

Hoes wearin flirty skirties

Young niggas act a fool

(Chorus x2)

(La Chat)

If there's some ana to handle

I'm gonna take care of my biz

I got a scope on ya body

I'm aimin straight for yo wig

I love to show out on hoes

I love to cut up wit niggas

These bitches always get wrong

So I love pullin tha trigga

And since you hoes won't learn

I got some lessons to teach

You betta call up the pastor

He got a sermon to preach

I ain't wit that arguin and cussin and fussin

Bitchin and fightin

I'm buckin choppas off top

Committed to takin yo life'n

La Chat a mac slash killa

Only speakin the real-a

I'm tryna let you know its on

For you violate a nigga

A bitch be quick to talk shit

But do you mean what you say

A real killa don't be talkin

They just be on they way

I don't think you wanna get down

You boys ain't ready for beef

There ain't nowhere you can hide

I called out an APD

This ain't game that ya playin

These bitches comin up slayin

I keep my ears to tha street

So hoe you watch what ya sayin

(Chorus x2)

(Project Pat)

They lock me up just like Tupac

And I went platinum

Layed it down for a calendar

Now right back at em

Took my game then weighed it up

On a triple beam

Niggas rob, kill, murder, steal

For that ghetty green

U.S. Marshal at my folks house

Wanna kill me dead

Wanna see me in a pine box

Bullet in my head

Police, mane I ain't did shit

Why you hatin this

Ghetto thugs love my rap songs

They relate to this

Swingin fists Knock ya eyeball

Clean out ya face

Shoulda known it was shit starters

All in tha place

Young niggas on that powder

Gon off tha base

Sneakin tones in da club

You could get blown away

Its a muhfuckin clique thang

Represent ya hood

Slangin cane makin plenty change

All to the good

Smokin blunt after blunt

Pound after pound

Throw a dead body in tha trunk

High we get down

(Chorus)

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