Song information On this page you can find the lyrics of the song Dead Men Don't Talk, artist - Project Pat. Date of issue: 24.08.1998
Age restrictions: 18+
Song language: English
Dead Men Don't Talk |
| Got’chu layin in ya blood, got’cho body in the chalk |
| Caught’chu slippin after dark |
| (Verse 1, Indo G) |
| I’m oh-so oh-so fresh, when I send shots on my block |
| And I’m somewhat fuckin coool, clientele won’t stop |
| Five for the fifth, or just ten for the pill |
| Niggas chill as I slides to the side, Coupe DeVille |
| Peel caps on a busta, see hes a stupid motherfucka |
| Talkin shit about my business, you best to duck |
| I got’chu on the infrared, in a mess; |
| where you goin |
| I hope you got nine lives cause you bodies will have holes in and out |
| Pull ups on Johnson, yo I stacks up and chill |
| Come on just let us buy, just some twenty dollar bills |
| Is you is or is you ain’t the D.E.A. |
| or cluckers? |
| Hope you ain’t them folks, cause you some dead motherfuckas |
| That’s all a nigga know, is a pocket full of bolos |
| Fresh sparklin BITCH, so motherFUCK some Polo’s |
| I’ll never get a job, it’s too much cheese in my hood |
| As long as I’m bout my hustle, I’m a nigga up to no good |
| (Hook x4, Project Pat &) |
| Got’chu layin in ya blood, got’cho body in the chalk |
| Caught’chu slippin after dark |
| (Verse 2, Project Pat) |
| A million, a million |
| Project was a million |
| Bullet slugs, I drilled them |
| Do I have to kill them? |
| Peel them, domes to the back, just to protect mine |
| Will them, cowards get the ups on me with the nine? |
| Draw yo iron, if you think that you is a deadly kid |
| Shot you why you wantin, now get off, see now what’chu did |
| Gots the kid gone and with us, 'fore them police bust |
| Car fulla that dope, I’m the shooter with the dirty Ruger |
| Do you bow down like a fool, and become a snitch? |
| Workin for the Feds, man you lames |
| Let the hammer twist, back motherfuckas crushin heads like some grapes |
| Point blank motherfucka, mask out, thirty-eight demonstration |
| Third point state in the nation, where I live |
| But I’ve seen more dope than a Haitian |
| Floatin, in the city streets, keep yo eyes closed |
| You ain’t seen shit, or your mouth hit these bullet holes |
| (Hook x4, Project Pat &) |
| Got’chu layin in ya blood, got’cho body in the chalk |
| Caught’chu slippin after dark |
| Comin straight from the hood dude |
| This nigga they call Ms. Smokey mayn |
| Evil thoughts is in my head, sometimes I feel I’m insane |
| Creepin up outta the dark with no heart, now it’s time to kill |
| Hit me a scope, now I have hope, bullets you know this shit so real |
| Have no anger, torture chamber, now yo life’s in fuckin danger |
| Dead men don’t walk, and they sure in the hell don’t talk |
| First they told it me, then they tellin me |
| Next they plannin, hopin to strip me from my life |
| God give me sanity |
| And in my mind, I’m racin, still racin |
| Chargin for the outcome, but it’s death I’m facin |
| And too deep callin, no stallin; |
| chicken steps |
| Remorse is wealth as I breath my last breath |
| Word, a nigga murdered on the streets by that heat |
| No witness to witness this, or the police |
| Fuck it I guess, I’m dead |
| A nigga reserve my head, promise to kill the body with the spread |
| (Hook x2 to fade, Project Pat &) |
| Got’chu layin in ya blood, got’cho body in the chalk |
| Caught’chu slippin after dark |