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juicy j - ain't allowed where i'm from lyrics
these n-gg-rs dropping dimes, they some real snitches
the only dimes that i ever dropped was some b-tches
i’ma cut some fingers, i’ma clip some tongues, cause
all that pouring and that talking ain’t allowed where
i’m from [x2]
n-gg-r stuck off in the fare, f-cking with them bricks
his partners put them laws on him, over a b-tch
these p-ssy n-gg-r scared, don’t wanna take they charge
they swear they hard but they softer then cotton b-lls
real n-gg-rs go to jail and don’t tell them nothing,
true
do that time, come back home then get back to hustling
we got everything for sale, but the kitchen sink
keep my eyes on you snakes, i don’t even blink
boy you scared, you gonna tell them white folks
everything, yes sir
to cut your time, you gonna give up errybody name
snitching n-gg-r you ain’t straight, them folks gonna
find you dead
cut your tongue out your mouth then put one in your
head
these n-gg-rs dropping dimes, they some real snitches
the only dimes that i ever dropped was some b-tches
i’ma cut some fingers, i’ma clip some tongues, cause
all that pouring and that talking ain’t allowed where
i’m from [x2]
the bigger the gun, the bigger the slug
the bigger the hole for doc to plug,
hole in your head, i put you to sleep
body not found, mama gon’ weep
droppin the dime, an runnin your mouth
nowhere to run down in the south
[?] goons and [?]
i [?] your wig
[?] blowing on kush and sipping on hen
forgive me father for your sin
[?] convicted felon back in the pen
[?] he looking for bread, he know that’s a loss
[?] behind them bars, now you gon’ squeal [?]
these n-gg-rs dropping dimes, they some real snitches
the only dimes that i ever dropped was some b-tches
i’ma cut some fingers, i’ma clip some tongues, cause
all that pouring and that talking ain’t allowed where
i’m from [x2]
prime time snitching lies, got line twistin guys
take the clic to make them flake no bind side in
district 9
trying to dodge prison time, all die for fishin by,
smith and 9’s, pow pow pow,
if you mention mine one put you in a scope, two clack
then it’s smoke,
three scoop you up and put yo body in an envelope,
4 send yo folks jus ya head chest guts now you leakin
body stinkin up the fed ex truck,
and that fed pressure, makes the snitches wanna roast
you,
they start droppin dimes like they coins miss the toll
booth,
god as my witness man i swear to tell the whole truth,
where i’m from we gets it done and act like we don’t
know dude
these n-gg-rs dropping dimes, they some real snitches
the only dimes that i ever dropped was some b-tches
i’ma cut some fingers, i’ma clip some tongues, cause
all that pouring and that talking ain’t allowed where
i’m from [x2]
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