Song information On this page you can read the lyrics of the song Story , by - The Lox. Release date: 27.08.2020
Song language: English
Story |
| Somebody slipped me a mickey |
| I’m dustin' my Raucomb |
| Can’t see straight and I can’t feel my jawbone |
| Can’t find my phone so I can’t even call home |
| Damn |
| Heard a nigga said he was buggin' |
| Where Sheek, Louch or Jadakiss or cousin? |
| Which one of them niggas could come get him? |
| 'Cause homie set him up and you know that he gone wet 'em |
| Don’t know where I’m at or why I’m there |
| Or what the fuck I was doin', my memory is ruined |
| If I blacked out that seems awkward |
| I feel nauseous, I’m usually so cautious |
| Searchin' for somethin' that’s familiar |
| But then I smell haze from Vermilyea |
| I guess I’m on Dyckman in the Heights |
| Then I heard nut-cracker and Vicodin and Ice |
| It was the plug’s right hand |
| Fuckin' gun butt, woke up in the big white van |
| Y’all niggas just kidnapped the kid? |
| He told me, «Hell yeah, boy, you you know what it is |
| I know where you live, I’ma bring you to the crib |
| If you don’t get the money up, Imma kill your kids» |
| Told him, «nigga I just moved» |
| He hit me with the gun again, I know it’s gone bruise |
| Damn, came in the house, took of my shoes |
| Put my feet up, grabbed the remote, turned on the news |
| Cheese Doodles, Ramen Noodles, Toaster Strudels |
| I’m high, nigga 'bout to make pancakes |
| Or should I just go to sleep until Styles come? |
| He takin' too long we supposed to do a juice bar run |
| Then my phone rang like yo we got your man (Who this) |
| I hang up like this stupid bitch playin' again |
| Then he hit me with a picture of SP |
| I’m sayin' to myself, «What kidnapper gone text me?» |
| Fuck outta here, LOL, FOH |
| Then he send another picture with a gun on his waist |
| I’m like, oh shit, I need more liquor |
| I got money and everythin' don’t touch my nigga |
| Where we meetin' at? |
| I’m comin' alone, grab my chrome |
| Then I hit my nigga Kiss on the phone |
| Ayo dog, it’s funky out this bitch |
| It’s some coward niggas tryin' to get rich |
| I swear to God Imma leave these niggas right in the ditch |
| He like (Yo, chil, chill, try to relax, I know you ready to go to war) |
| I’m like nigga that’s facts |
| But if you come around the back, silencers on |
| And put a couple in the air, these niggas is gone |
| I grabbed the 44 long, they think somethin' is sweet |
| Box of shells already had the pump in the jeep |
| Closed casket, I ain’t leavin' nothin' to see |
| Tryna figure out who these niggas fuckin' with P |
| They probably seen him makin' a bet, puttin' it in |
| We got family on Sherman, it wouldn’t be them |
| Like the line between love and hate, couldn’t be thin |
| They don’t rock like that or we wouldn’t be friends |
| Ready to dump on sight in front of the law |
| I met Louch on Academy in front of the stall |
| Was the call blocked or did they leave a number to call? |
| (We like nah, son, private, hop in, drive it |
| Anythin' we ever been through we survived it, you know that, nigga) |
| Real talk I just hope they don’t try shit |
| Before we get to em or somebody gotta die quick |
| Shit, I was lost for a second |
| I snapped right back when we crossed 207th |
| Thinkin' to myself should’ve bought the MAC-11 |
| Seen a white van followin' the Porsche in the seven |
| Damn maybe I’m just illin' |
| The van made a right, BM in the Porsche trailed 'em |
| We was two cars back |
| They went through the light and pulled over by a buildin' |
| Still no signs of the ghost |
| We kept our eyes on 'em, but we didn’t play em close |
| Seen the crib that they went in |
| Cocked my shit, Louch slipped another clip in |
| Knocked on the door with the hammers |
| They all lookin' at the playback on the cameras |
| Lucky we ain’t squeeze off the weapons |
| Part of a short film that P was directin' |
| Yeah, we needed to get it without rushin' |
| We set it up right the white van was production |
| We caught y’all both in rare form |
| We gotta shoot shit like this from here on |
| Then we got high and bent |
| And laughed it off |
| Yeah, and that’s how that went, word |
| This nigga P |
| He got me and Louch ridin' all around Washington Heights |
| With muthafuckin' pumps, 44 longs, Desert Eagles |
| All kind of shit that get you 100 years |
| Lookin' for this nigga in one of these buildings |
| And the whole time he tapin' this shit |
| For him and- |
| Shootin' a sort film him and Poos wrote |
| This niggas the illest yo |
| Anyway after we calmed down |
| The Dominican niggas gave us a couple ounces |
| We bought a couple bottles |
| We got high and drunk |
| And we laughed that shit off while them niggas was editin' that shit |
| This nigga’s crazy yo! |