Song information On this page you can find the lyrics of the song Still Here, artist - C-Mob. Date of issue: 09.08.2012
Age restrictions: 18+
Song language: English
Still Here |
| Rock solid mafia |
| We goin' full throttle man |
| Thank god we still here, you know what I’m talking about |
| You heard man? |
| Some niggas here their whole life |
| Still don’t know what they here for |
| Still don’t have a purpose in life |
| You know what I’m talking about |
| So you can look at it in two ways man |
| You can complain about where you not at |
| And where you wanna be |
| Or you could think about what you could be |
| And where you at |
| You heard man? |
| C-Mob, get 'em |
| I grew up on that gangsta shit |
| All about my money partna, I got bank to get |
| I could utilize game, never thanked or tripped |
| If you cross the wrong line, I stank you quick |
| At fifteen, I split fiends and hit green |
| At sixteen has sick dreams to rip spleens |
| Sip lean and flip green to get cream |
| My wrist bleeds, it’s glistening, the trick’s clean |
| What Chris means, the shit’s clean, it’s pristine |
| Your chick cleans, my dick me will whip cream |
| I flick, fling, I clip ring, I lip scream |
| When we were young, thangs were wild |
| Are you listening? |
| But as you grow older, life starts to make a change |
| Grown in the villa, but a lot of me is still the same |
| Mainly the biggest change is my priorities |
| But I can’t say the same for the majority |
| Some things will never change |
| And that’s the way it is |
| Some folks are wrong, but they’re still like little kids |
| Some got their mind on their money |
| And now they’re makin' it |
| And some don’t know how |
| So they just take it in |
| You see I’m still here, white T, fresh dickies |
| Still by my business and you still don’t wanna mess with me |
| And I’m lucky I ain’t dead or in a wheelchair |
| And I just thank god because I’m still here |
| Every multipliers, when you rise |
| Just so I could tell |
| People despise how I grind |
| Niggas wish I would fell |
| See the signs of the times |
| Tell me, will I prevail |
| Skeletons in my closet haunt me like some shit out of hell |
| The devil told me, they would forever control me |
| Left the trenches of hell now it’s on 'til I’ll OD |
| With the power of prayer |
| I’m standin' as tall as an oak tree |
| God protect me, don’t let Satan turn me back to the old me |
| God knows my heart and now that I wanna be sober |
| I turn it up, the (cheekin' piece?) |
| With niggas runnin' me over |
| Bitches are fucked, man |
| Lookin' at me is the problem |
| But I got hella respect when I will beat the shit out of 'em |
| Dear father, I cry and grip my teeth at the bottom |
| Mother society resemblin' a street up inside of 'em |
| Cold as autumn |
| I try to put my feelings in the past |
| Semi warm-hearted but the nice guys finish last |
| Blast shots through the night |
| Had cock to the right |
| Used to help a fiend |
| Put a crack rock to the pipe |
| That’s not for you to like |
| Boy you better run quick |
| Don’t regret it all but I used to do some dumb shit |
| Cats are used to run quick, turned to be fake |
| Take it as a life lesson, gotta learn from mistakes |
| On my every day grind, I be earning my cake |
| Visions of my enemies gettin' burned at the stake |
| Growin' up in the land of the folks and lords |
| In the town where everybody is broken board |
| Better back yourself with actions, not your vocal cords |
| You might end up in a local morgue |
| Grown cats acted just like they acted in the 12th grade |
| You had your mind right |
| You could be well paid |
| I rely on nobody, I’m a grown man |
| I make my money, eat out of my own hand |