Song information On this page you can find the lyrics of the song Trouble, artist - Emilio Rojas.
Date of issue: 29.04.2014
Age restrictions: 18+
Song language: English
Trouble |
Yeah, I be where the papis be, caking off of poppy seed |
167th, baby, I got the whole block with me |
I’m where the poverty created an economy |
And everybody selling souls, now the Devil on a shopping spree |
All my people going in and out of jail |
I’m the lucky one, I ain’t never had no drugs to sell |
I just want the type of paper that you count it with a scale |
So if they get indicted, I could be there with the bail |
Everybody think they real but ain’t nobody realistic |
All my people doing numbers, trying not to be statistics |
Yeah, ‘cause we don’t wanna see no prisons |
But we out there on the strip ‘cause we don’t wanna lease no Civics, no |
Nah, they don’t wanna see Latins with investments |
Nah, but I been living like a legend though |
Yeah, you be the one with all the answers |
I’mma be the one they never get to question though |
It could go down, ain’t nothing but trouble around here |
Ain’t nothing but trouble around here, it could go down |
Ain’t nothing but trouble around here |
Ain’t nothing but trouble around here |
It could go down, the city so cold I could see my breath |
The city so cold I could see my breath |
The city so cold I could see my breath |
The city so cold I could see my breath |
Yo, the new Hector Lavoe, you should respect me |
Them killers all around me gonna protect me |
And the condo is two floors, sports car, fly shit, two doors |
All I need is two slores and I’mma use they two jaws |
Catch me out in the Bronx where the choppers at |
Harlem Sunday, wear the proper hat |
Queens where they sell it and they use it and they choppin' that |
And niggas getting murdered, that’s on top of that |
Yeah, I fuck her on her tip toes, West Coast |
Guns out in France, yeah that’s French Toast |
Been ghost, yeah, told them niggas been there and done that |
‘Cause I think they can run that ‘cause all that bread come back |
New York left rack, quarterback, running back |
Tell them bring the quarter back, I just keep the number flat |
My posse still on Broadway, in East Wick, we do it by raw way |
We do this shit all day, get them niggas' head in they hall way |
It could go down, ain’t nothing but trouble around here |
Ain’t nothing but trouble around here, it could go down |
Ain’t nothing but trouble around here |
Ain’t nothing but trouble around here |
It could go down, the city so cold I could see my breath |
The city so cold I could see my breath |
The city so cold I could see my breath |
The city so cold I could see my breath |