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project pat - don't turn around كلمات الأغنية

[verse 1]
i only f-ck with those who only f-ck with me
a sucker play for games, a man play for keeps
i keep’s me a nine millimeter just in case
a coward’s in my face
these bullets he gone taste
a waste of your life, stepping wrong, i’m on trees
best to leave me alone, best to go make some cheese
n-o-mes come in all shapes, forms, sizes, colors
could be your best friend, cousin, or brothers
i’ll rob them all, just to see who got the fattest stack
walked in the bank, put the loot in the cul-de-sac
slapped on the guard four times for he p-ssed out
eyes on the blow and my pockets was -ssed out
had on a trench coat, wig and some goggles
if’n you resist, you may not see tomorrow
i’m in there, outta there, the police couldn’t get me
but i made a slip up; had a trick with me

[hook: repeat 2x]
don’t turn around (give me the f-cking cheese trick)
don’t make a sound (show me where the keys at)
lay it on the ground (knowing that your pockets fat)
fore’ i buck you down (and i’m quick’s to do that)

[verse 2]
n-gga starting bragging in his hood about the robbery
wasn’t long then ‘fore somebody dropped a dime on me
i’mma be the one they can’t get to, they picked the boy up
run his mouth just like a fool, he gone get me f-cked up
but i’mma have to get to him before the police do-a
caught up with him night and day, locked him and his crew up
sprang down chelsea ave. kind of in the evening
for this motherf-cker’s death, dawg i was fiendin
he was looking at me strange, like i’mma catcher
i done hopped out with the thang, let me holler at’cha
fool, where you been dog? (my momma got sick, man)
f-ck that got to do wit’chu? (hold up i ain’t your b-tch, man)
i heard you been talking, your m-th-f-cking lips loose (nah, it ain’t like
that dawg. i ain’t no d-mn fool)
looking in his eyes, i could see that he was so scared
i squeezed on the trigger with the gun to his forehead

[hook]

[verse 3]
blew the top out his skull, now they want me dead
all the n-ggas in his hood, police, and the feds
stepped out of westwood, way out of the side
on the other side of town, somewhere i can hide
i done threw my life away, hunted by them by pigs
robbing every other day, drops in off my nigs
they done found my whereabouts, bouts’ to do me in
kicking in the front door, and i was in the den
sk was under the couch, sn-tched it off the wham
open fire on them hoes, i didn’t give a d-mn
blood stream was full of dope, pump off coca leaf
feds had me under a scope, and an infra-beam
rifle bullet threw my throat, choking, hit the floor
gunpowder in my mouth, knocking heaven’s door
street life done took me out, and that sh-t ain’t fake
i done f-cked myself off, cause of a bad mistake

- project pat

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