Lyrics Listen - Dutch, A-Wax, Haystak

Listen

What’chall gonna do… naw just stay with them broads man…
Y’all in the jacuzzi huh… naw, naw, Imanna rhyme… but go
Ahead y’all have a good time… Hangs up… Cha'
I ain’t got no time to fuck off money laid up in the hot tub
Cuz where I’m from time flies by like hot subs
Cops love to pull you over 'n' search your shit
Call a female officer to come 'n' search your bitch
You can’t trust neara' motha' fucker to know where you live
Cuz your frien’s turn to your foes
Bullets holes in the crib
It’s a trip, how the tables have turned
From bein' broke, to spendin' money like you had paper to burn
You haters gonna learn what most players already know
Need to worry 'bout ya own hoes, worry 'bout ya own doe
Windows break, gun blasts echo
Swore revenge on 'em, now you just can’t let go
Gotta chip on your shoulder, I know how ya feel
Pushed over the edge, yous a killa for real
I bet you sleep with yo' steel
Ready to let it rang out
Enemies catch ya slippin' they gonna blow ya brains out
«Listen,» «Listen,»
«What the fuck, you can’t handle it?»
«Listen,» «Listen,»
«What the fuck you gonna do?»
«Listen,» «Listen,»
«Can't you recognize game?»
«Listen,» «Listen,»
«Video survalience, unit one
We are monitoring the suspect,»
You may got the feds outside, as we speak
Posted up watchin' you, from across the street
Rumor has it you offed yo' peeps
Took over they territory, bought you a jeep
Iced your teeth and your pinkys
Phones piercin' your ears
Up in Vips screamin' ain’t no bitches in here
Whatcha mouth
You shinin' like a headlight playa
You ain’t gotta brag
«That's the mother fuckin' feds right there,»
They hard to spot in the club
Workin' they plain clothes
Versatchi shirts, rollies, gators 'n' kangoes
Look just like you do
Airs, Axe, FuBu
You think dudes cool
But he’s the fuckin' police
You out there shinin', braggin', flossin', yo jew’ry
Next thing you know you caught up in fronta the damn gran' jury
Be careful who you talk to
Neva' let 'em see ya be sof' dude
These fools tryin' ta off you
Hear me talkin' to you nephew…
«Listen,» «Listen,»
«They don’t know who they fuckin' with,»
«Listen,» «Listen,»
«They can’t recognize game,»
«Listen,» «Listen,»
«Why the fuck they can’t handle it,»
«Listen,» «Listen,»
«Think ol' plain clothes dude goin’ta kill you man,»
Robbin' the wrong motha fucker got you caught in the win'
You went into hidin', started offin' your frien’s
Sent ya a message, the next victim 'ill be ya kin
You put him in that position
Now he got to do you in
This fool goes crazy, he done been to the pen
3 or 4 times, for killin' 5 or 6 men
You had the hook up
Front ya twenty, you pay for ten
Five days shouldn’t pass 'fo' you page him again
Well, six days passed 'fo' they found yo ass
Filled fulla bullet holes naked in the trash
Shell casin’s on the ground from a 44mag.,
Money that you owed still beside you in a bag
Slit yo throat from ear ta ear, pulled yo tounge thru yo neck
Local cops blamed it on the Columbian connects, and ah
Couple days after you was gone, yellow tape came down
And life went on… So «Listen,» «Listen,» «Listen»…