Song information On this page you can find the lyrics of the song Ain't Something Wrong, artist - JT The Bigga Figga. Album song Dwellin' In Tha Labb, in the genre Иностранный рэп и хип-хоп
Date of issue: 31.12.1994
Record label: Get Low
Song language: English
Ain't Something Wrong |
Ain’t something wrong |
I’m running these streets, I’m stacking my pay |
But I’m in a drug zone |
Relax your mind and let your conscience free |
And I’ma tell you how a player used to stack his G’s |
Used to hit the strips with the fuckin' clips in my pocket |
Mind on mail, so change the powder into rockets |
Came up off an ozone, now I’m pushing boulders |
Off of doja on the flame with the rest of the soldiers |
Flipped my first bucket at the age of 14 |
A four-door Nova, thought my shit was too clean |
A young hustler tryna be like them G’s |
My homeboy Fat Rat, The Stone and Tim B |
Can’t forget about my homie Beeda Weeda |
We used to strike the buckets all the way to Cupertino |
Hot sunny day, man, the block was scorching |
Fools in them drop point-O's straight torching |
Sacks on top of sacks to get their buzz on |
And by the way, young player, you in the drug zone |
Ain’t something wrong (ain't something wrong) |
I’m running these streets, I’m stacking my pay |
But I’m in a drug zone |
Ain’t something wrong (ain't something wrong) |
I’m running these streets, I’m stacking my pay |
But I’m in a drug zone |
Hustling over chillin' 'cause it ain’t no time to kick it |
Never been a baller but I’mtryna stack a ticket |
Chopping down my O’s, put my money on froze |
Slammin' Cadillac doors and on them multiple stoves |
It’s just a dream, but dreams could be reality |
Put it in perspective, collective and check the salary |
Mandatory that I pop at you bustas, could never stop it |
Dwellin' in the lab and on the daily tryna chop it |
Monopolizing, enterprising, now in 1995 we’re realizing |
That we got to do for self, so self is independent |
Stacking up all the pay and making wealth and feeling splendid |
Making G’s, nigga please |
I used to hit the blocks to sell my rocks and roll up the green leaves |
Now I’m all about my fetti |
On the other side of the game and game tight and moving steady |
Ain’t something wrong (ain't something wrong) |
I’m running these streets, I’m stacking my pay |
But I’m in a drug zone |
Ain’t something wrong (ain't something wrong) |
I’m running these streets, I’m stacking my pay |
But I’m in a drug zone |
Yeah, I’ma send that out to my homeboy Travy Lo, to my young homie Pierre, |
to my OG Potna Rondo, to all the fallen soldiers, mayne |
One love, that’s real |
Now fools think they can jump in the game |
And be an overnight star with money and fame |
I had to work for my status, got the baddest apparatus |
If you’re paying your dues, then fa sho, you can have this |
Time’ll tell, you might as well |
Come to the L-A-double B and check your mail |
'Cause niggas be clocking their grip but coming up and stacking G’s |
Pulling up in the lab and on the daily with them R-A-P's |
Please take yourself and see and feel the beat |
'Cause the flavor don’t stop now, us players gon' clock now |
Represent the game because the game don’t stop |
So you got to get your paper 'til it’s time to pop |
Ain’t something wrong (ain't something wrong) |
I’m running these streets, I’m stacking my pay |
But I’m in a drug zone |
Ain’t something wrong (ain't something wrong) |
I’m running these streets, I’m stacking my pay |
But I’m in a drug zone |