Tytuł: Project Dreamz

• Wykonawca: Field Mob
• Wyświetleń: 322

[Boondox]
  Rent thirty days late, gotta be gone by Saturday
  Tired of sellin' cocaine, folks tryna' trap me
  Every night dreamin bout livin life lavish
  A watch full of karats, a candy coated Caddy
  Off the show flo', sittin on fo' Vouges
  Oak wood gear shift, ?? dash door
  Choppin on seventeen inch Enki's
  Bling bling from my mouth to my pinky
  Enough about my jewelry, grill, and my Fleetwood
  Tryna still live stable so my folks can eat good
  House sittin out on the hill to sleep good
  Livin peaceful, just like we should
  Money legal, no more sellin reefer
  No more FEDs tryna' stick me like a needle
  When it's cold outdo' come in I heat ya
  He ain't gotta walk in the sun, I A.C. ya
  Bump worryin 'bout that burgular comin to creep ya
  Get trapped by alarms and the millimeter
  I'm a do or die playa for my people, follow the leader
  I'm my brotha's keeper, for real
  
  [Chorus-both]
  I'm a have me a big nice Caddy
  House on the hill for my ma' and my pappy
  Live life happy and I'm still nappy
  Makin legal money, no FEDs tryna' trap me
  I'm a have me a big nice Caddy
  House on the hill for my ma' and my pappy
  Live life happy and I'm still nappy
  Nigga, legal money, no FEDs tryna' trap me
  If you ever been broke put your hands up
  You been broke put your hands up, put your hands up
  If you ever been broke put your hands up
  You been broke put your hands up, put 'em up
  
  [Kalage]
  What ya know 'bout havin no dough, no coat for the winter
  Remember, we poor folk
  Most cut yolk and smoke coke, cut throats in ya dope, hoe
  Talk about they wanna 'Lac with four do's, no Vogues
  Wood kit and Momo's
  I gets Polo, pockets so swol', Jenny Craig
  Naw, Escalade hog, in the yard
  Breakin all ya folks too, belly full a soul food
  Chittlens, greens, pork chops, green beens
  Yeah I pray for that, each and every day I rap
  I rap with guard, 'cause I feel you ain't really safe with gats
  We escape slacks, the government help and welfare
  My folk cries to the Lord, ain't no help there
  We ain't have much, or less to brag about, but mo' to lose
  I ran the street, mama told me go to school
  But now I got a chance to change things and maintain
  Mo' so, I ain't gotta slang 'caine anymore
  Hell yeah boy, you really understand dirt
  Well I'm a rap if you gon' clap until your hands hurt
  I ain't the only person feel like I feel, that there live like I live
  And wanna chill, for real
  
  [Chorus]
  
  [Boondox] Now put your hands up if you're broke, folks tried
  to spoil ya
  With fried bologna sandwiches and sugar water
  [Kalage] Put ya hands up, if you feel my hurt
  Have you ever bathed with soap the size of a Cert
  [B] Don't disguise the dirt did 'cause we all know rocks
  It's the real reason furniture go to the pawn shop
  [K] 'Cause ya crackhead cuz smokin the car antennas
  [B] Understand see...
  [K] It's a junkie in every family
  [B] Them my hand-me-down, tight pants, lookin slim in 'em
  If they too big...
  [K] What you do?
  [B] Put a hem in 'em
  [K] 'Member talkin over the loud sounds when the wind blow
  'Cause the trash bag's replacin yo' car window
  [B] Man, I been poor
  [K] I been poor
  [Both] Man, we been poor!
  That's how it is in the Field, for real
  
  [Chorus 2x]