Life of Crime

Lyrics

[Intro] (This Neil on the track) The soul soldier, ha Nigga, ain't no cap in that, ha Load up them clips, ha [Chorus] Ever since that nigga died from off that side, they claim that's my fault Don't bring your ass outside if you ain't 'bout it, we gon' draw that white chalk Wrong or right, my niggas stepping, we don't really like y'all He play with us, we bust his fucking melon and turn the lights off I'm from the city of Savannah where we die all the time Shoot at your momma, kill your pops every time they come 'cross the line I feel like Soulja Slim and Pac, I live the life of crime I'm scared to put some pеnnies in the streets 'cause thеy might drop a dime [Verse 1] Ayy, they think 'bout playing with Big Perc they going in the dirt I'm in they section on a bike, they come outside, I swear I'm shooting first This Smith & Wesson let off lights, on my life, you going on a shirt You air my name to get some likes, on your life, you going in the dirt I like to fuck on her pussy every time I'm on Percs I told her bend that ass over, go on and make that thing squirt Two double cups, I'm sipping Tech, I sipped the soda then burped Send my lil' nigga to the West, and make him take all they work He rode his bike through over, thought I tried to blow the back off My niggas itching like some pests, swear they can't wait to bite y'all I got no love for a bitch, no, I won't never wife y'all So many times I walked that line, locked behind a white wall I got a drop on all them niggas, we gon' burn up they trap We on the 3rd with hella pistols, y'all drive by then get clapped Don't make us pull up on y'all block then take a pic on the Ave I put this shit in VVS's, rolling like I'm handicapped, woah [Chorus] Ever since that nigga died from off that side, they claim that's my fault Don't bring your ass outside if you ain't 'bout it, we gon' draw that white chalk Wrong or right, my niggas stepping, we don't really like y'all He play with us, we bust his fucking melon and turn the lights off I'm from the city of Savannah where we die all the time Shoot at your momma, kill your pops every time they come 'cross the line I feel like Soulja Slim and Pac, I live the life of crime I'm scared to put some pennies in the streets 'cause they might drop a dime