Lyrics Dead Men Don't Talk - Project Pat, Indo G

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