Song information On this page you can find the lyrics of the song Hood Tales, artist - Jayy Grams. Date of issue: 16.04.2020
Song language: English
Hood Tales |
| I wish things ain’t have to go like that |
| I ain’t know dead bodies hit the floor like that |
| Everyday I stray away from an extra worry |
| That’s just another reason I should stress this story |
| I stay on it, eyes open cause death strong |
| I’m like a mixture of Steve Urkle and Stephon |
| I press cons but use my brain as a weapon |
| But sometimes that shit be impossible |
| Cross the street and they stopping you, what’s yo name nigga? |
| I hittem to show em I’m loc, not a gang member |
| Remain bitter in sleep hit my mans Ova East |
| Need a strand of the leaf |
| I just handled some beef |
| He tell me say less just wait for the text |
| And if the dude be actin' senile |
| Grams in ya room like the fan blew the weed round |
| It’s after 3 now, got back from a pub brawlin' |
| Is what he texted me, then he snapped and started calling |
| Yo Ima little bit belligerent, but something bout that incident |
| Is not merely coincidence, my little cuzzin nicholas got frickin' whipped and |
| played like: «Yo a punk yo» |
| Don’t know if it was you but we can see over this blunt woe |
| I wish things ain’t have to go like that |
| I ain’t know dead bodies hit the floor like that |
| Everyday I stray away from an extra worry |
| That’s just another reason I should stress this story |
| I wish things ain’t have to go like that |
| I ain’t know dead bodies hit the floor like that |
| Everyday I stray away from an extra worry |
| That’s just another reason I should stress this story |
| I try to stay calm, I know dude a know murder |
| But I ain’t get in shit wait the nigga that pressed me earlier |
| Fuck, to gave that fibber a snuff, but bitch I’m draggin' my nuts |
| Ain’t turning down on no blunt, I get a pass for the bus |
| So I can go over the East Side and get shit poppin' |
| Like we cookin' up some deep fry |
| Peep guys foxing steady, watching as I get off the stop |
| And seen the nigga I was fighting and his mans up the block |
| Cablam is a pop, it grazed me in my lung tho |
| Ain’t know what I was packing till they heard the freakin' drum roll |
| Running round, waving one, looking like Mutumbo |
| Got two bullets in me only got one, soul ready grimey |
| I blacked out, tryna kill em up in record timing |
| Seen the plug and the dude I fought and I recognized em |
| Keep it professional, I hit em with the nice glare |
| And aired they ass out right here, yea |
| I wish things ain’t have to go like that |
| I ain’t know dead bodies hit the floor like that |
| Everyday I stray away from an extra worry |
| That’s just another reason I should stress this story |
| I wish things ain’t have to go like that |
| I ain’t know dead bodies hit the floor like that |
| Everyday I stray away from an extra worry |
| That’s just another reason I should stress this story |