Song information On this page you can find the lyrics of the song Die Like a G, artist - Papoose. Album song The Nacirema Dream, in the genre Рэп и хип-хоп
Date of issue: 25.03.2013
Record label: Honorable
Song language: English
Die Like a G |
If my death is anything like my life |
Then I’mma die like a G |
Throw your hammers up in the sky just for me |
I don’t live in the Stuy, the Stuy live in me |
Nigga what! |
Hit you up with the Mack |
Nigga what! |
You ain’t fuckin' with Pap |
Sendin' shots at me, I’m bustin 'em back |
So I ride around the town with the gun in my lap |
Ayo my bond is my life, my word is my bond |
You pull the 2−5, I’mma pull the FoFo long |
Niggas can’t stop my reign, my buzz too strong |
I was here when you came, I’ll be here when you gone |
Keep talkin' like you tough when you’re singin' ya song |
I blow ya head off, make the morgue sow it back on |
Niggas catch beef in the night, and slip in the dawn |
That’s why the most bodies get dropped in the early morn' |
When the body gets scooped up and shipped to the morgue |
The killer go in the crib and pillow talk to his girl |
Baby mom say she gon' send him where he belong |
Call the cops that’s what happens when the woman is scorned |
At the end of most arguments somebody get warned |
Always gotta be right, just admit when you wrong |
Say you gon' ride through the hood and blow your chromes |
But you just bop through the hood and blow your horn |
If my death is anything like my life |
Then I’mma die like a G |
Throw your hammers up in the sky just for me |
I don’t live in the Stuy, the Stuy live in me |
Nigga what! |
Hit you up with the Mack |
Nigga what! |
You ain’t fuckin' with Pap |
Sendin' shots at me, I’m bustin 'em back |
So I ride around the town with the gun in my lap |
Feel like I’m Tarzan, aw man, my girl Jane |
My homies wild like the animals we all bang |
Lookin' for this coward cause he owe me some small change |
Heard he in the gambling spot |
How you gon' gamble while you owe me homie? |
I ran up in the card game with that long thing |
I’m puttin' dots on they heads while they playing poker |
I ain’t playin' with ya’ll lames |
Man I gave them niggas poker (polka) dots like Charmane |
Sayin' they killers, man when they gon' start killin' |
When blood starts spillin' ya’ll start sayin' ya’ll chillin' |
Let them outta town niggas catch ya’ll slippin' |
Pump work on the block, took food outta ya’ll kitchen |
Flossed in ya parties, sexed all of ya’ll women |
You runnin' round talkin' bout you ain’t got no hard feelings |
You ain’t got no hard feelings cause you’re really a broad |
This nigga soft, I don’t feel him if his feelings ain’t hard |
If my death is anything like my life |
Then I’mma die like a G |
Throw your hammers up in the sky just for me |
I don’t live in the Stuy, the Stuy live in me |
Nigga what! |
Hit you up with the Mack |
Nigga what! |
You ain’t fuckin' with Pap |
Sendin' shots at me, I’m bustin 'em back |
So I ride around the town with the gun in my lap |
Cause snatch you sharks out the ocean, and watch you die |
Take you guppies out the fish tank and let you dry |
Kill you piranhas at at the blink of an eye |
But I ain’t thinkin' bout you I got some bigger fish to fry |
Cause when a nigga live the thug life and somebody hit 'em |
The family always wanna blame the person who with 'em |
So if you was with your homie and ya’ll got hit up |
And he ain’t make it and you make it then you better grip up |
Now it’s more homicide, more bloodshed |
Cause all they really wanna know is why you ain’t dead |
A nigga follow my whip I ain’t gon' scream and shout |
I’mma lead 'em to his death, that’s what I’m about |
Call my homie on the cell, you chillin no doubt |
These niggas followin' the whip, they must think I’m a slouch |
I’mma ride through the block, by the club house |
When you see the car behind me, air that shit out |
If my death is anything like my life |
Then I’mma die like a G |
Throw your hammers up in the sky just for me |
I don’t live in the Stuy, the Stuy live in me |
Nigga what! |
Hit you up with the Mack |
Nigga what! |
You ain’t fuckin' with Pap |
Sendin' shots at me, I’m bustin 'em back |
So I ride around the town with the gun in my lap |