Lyrics Strapped Up - Boosie Badazz, C-Murder

Strapped Up

Money beats
Boosie Badazz nigga
And I keep my shit nigga, it’s part of my outfit
Just like I put on my shoes I put on my stray
Believe that nigga
Got my shit all in a shit my nigga
See I talk shit cause I’m boss shit, you is just a juvenile
You could die, he could die, believe me I’m all homicide
I got my strap, C got his strap
We just bossy yes we got bread so we don’t kidnap
If I’m fucking with that, I’m fucking with it asap
And everything that I wet, it ain’t a act it’s a fact
I got a vest in my rack so if you shoot at my back, it’s worthless
Turn around and start to bawl like some churches
Man we ball close with some police when it come to killing Ya’ll bogus
Ain’t no alright in my bed when I see you see, ain’t posing
I see ride that pony, seven kicks, Roney dead
Still I lay off easy man with seven prices on my head
Keep it in the club with me, fuck the fame
Man I get off the pain’s waiting at the bailer’s claim
And it ain’t no ratting in me nigga
Ain’t jumping, I’m dunking
If you looking for me nigga
I ain’t stunting I’m coming, I’m strapped
If I got my strap and he got his gas
Don’t fuck with me homeboy
I’m fucking with that
See me as a block boy
A Cali young pall head
And I’m from the south nigga
You see what we bout nigga
If I got my strap and he got his gas
Don’t fuck with me homeboy
I’m fucking with that
See me as a block boy
A Cali young pall head
And I’m from the south nigga
You see what we bout nigga
I say what I mean ya’ll, don’t slip when I give way
They say that I slung bird, but believe that I moonbird
A chick and the fish tails, the murderer don’t tell tales
The goons that tells tales, the ones ain’t make bail
The goons that make jail, they lying on they name dawg
They lying on the dick too, they the ones that fall off
See niggas say anything for a little respect yes
Like an accident waiting to happen, nigga a trainwreck
Took a picture and frame that with a Glock in my right hand
And I sleep with that same Glock on the top of my nightstand
See life is a crap game, grab all your crap out
But Boosie ain’t dead dawg, that nigga with the strap out
The one with the MAC out on a post at the crack house
They go to the stash house they busting then smash out
He mad cause he breathing is easing, no memories
He mad cause his breathing is
If I got my strap and he got his gas
Don’t fuck with me homeboy
I’m fucking with that
See me as a block boy
A Cali young pall head
And I’m from the south nigga
You see what we bout nigga
If I got my strap and he got his gas
Don’t fuck with me homeboy
I’m fucking with that
See me as a block boy
A Cali young pall head
And I’m from the south nigga
You see what we bout nigga