CORRECT LYRICS
Lyrics : Roots
Gun full of ammo, got me feelin’ like Rambo
Smokin’ on that loud, my eyes low like a Lambo
Everywhere I go they like, “You be killin’ that [?]”
All these cases of Chris got me feelin’ like [?]
Feelin’ like [?]
And all these cases of Chris got me feelin’ like [?]
These are my roots, I came from [?]
n***as shoot from the hip [?] from the booth
Hangin’ out the window whilst I scream “What it do?”
Get the number, get the ass, bada bing, bada boom
The blacker the berry, the sweeter the juicе
My vet b*t*h blacker than the mothaf**kin’ [?]
Hеr head game mean, and her pu**y is a nuke
My bad, let’s get back to my mothaf**kin’ roots
My dad wasn’t ‘round much
I was raised from the streets, from the ground up
And I was taught wasn’t nobody gon’ give me sh*t
That’s when I met that white girl, labeled town sl*t
And I shared her with other n***as ‘cause I knew behind my back she was f**kin’ with them all anyway
So I got what I could out her
Millyon Dollar Vision, baby, that was good powder
And I stood hours
I aim and I shoot, reload and repeat
b*t*h, I’ma die by the cold of these streets
When kids get to dyin’, you know it’s some beef
f**k towels, make a n***a throw in some sheets
I break smiles, make a n***a throw up some teeth
This ain’t 8 Mile, I don’t get cold in the feet
n***a, say it with your chest, act grown when you speak
Been rappin’ for years, why you can’t make a hit?
You ain’t ready to die, why you actin’ like B.I.G? (Huh)
Why you actin’ like B.I.G?
Yo’ mans is a b*t*h and you actin’ like him
I stand on my own, b*t*h, I’m possessed
All you f**kboys need to give it a rest
b*t*h I’m the best, f**k what you rep
Dawg, and that’s word to the sh*t on my chest (Easy)
Smokin’ on that loud, my eyes low like a Lambo
Everywhere I go they like, “You be killin’ that [?]”
All these cases of Chris got me feelin’ like [?]
Feelin’ like [?]
And all these cases of Chris got me feelin’ like [?]
These are my roots, I came from [?]
n***as shoot from the hip [?] from the booth
Hangin’ out the window whilst I scream “What it do?”
Get the number, get the ass, bada bing, bada boom
The blacker the berry, the sweeter the juicе
My vet b*t*h blacker than the mothaf**kin’ [?]
Hеr head game mean, and her pu**y is a nuke
My bad, let’s get back to my mothaf**kin’ roots
My dad wasn’t ‘round much
I was raised from the streets, from the ground up
And I was taught wasn’t nobody gon’ give me sh*t
That’s when I met that white girl, labeled town sl*t
And I shared her with other n***as ‘cause I knew behind my back she was f**kin’ with them all anyway
So I got what I could out her
Millyon Dollar Vision, baby, that was good powder
And I stood hours
I aim and I shoot, reload and repeat
b*t*h, I’ma die by the cold of these streets
When kids get to dyin’, you know it’s some beef
f**k towels, make a n***a throw in some sheets
I break smiles, make a n***a throw up some teeth
This ain’t 8 Mile, I don’t get cold in the feet
n***a, say it with your chest, act grown when you speak
Been rappin’ for years, why you can’t make a hit?
You ain’t ready to die, why you actin’ like B.I.G? (Huh)
Why you actin’ like B.I.G?
Yo’ mans is a b*t*h and you actin’ like him
I stand on my own, b*t*h, I’m possessed
All you f**kboys need to give it a rest
b*t*h I’m the best, f**k what you rep
Dawg, and that’s word to the sh*t on my chest (Easy)
