a b c d e f g h i j k l m n o p q r s t u v w x y z 0 1 2 3 4 5 6 7 8 9 #

trüz (usa) - routes to hell lyrics

[intro]
(inaudible)

[verse 1]
little n+gga be actin’ wild, livin’ foul, never seen ’em smile
mama never notice change, smokin’ weed meanwhile
he stackin’ the loot, just watchin’ the pipes ignite
he stitchin’ b+tches, totin’ his tec, smokin’ blunts all night
the cz’s havin’ dreams of f+ckin’ friends or foes
brand new clothes, fire hoes openin’ up lex doors
every smell’s deceivin’ in the crew, he won’t take it light
see me choose [?] in the middle of night
so i bе sittin’ back, thinkin’ about the stress that i be undеr
it wasn’t real hard to say my hood would take me under
but i wonder, thoughts of myself when i be sleepin’
who would be that n+gga to take my life and then my bein’ but i’m seein’
death at an early age, rage is an everyday stage
and the plots is n+ggas with glocks, watch the spots
the cops don’t got they mind on the streets
watchin’ your back, don’t slack ’cause you can’t feel no creep
knee deep, i don’t wanna be but i gotta be
blunt smoke in my chest and i’m feelin’ i’m not blessed
a rolex on my neck, walkin’ the ’95 lex+us
i’m ready to bust but no job ain’t seein’ me illegally
i can attain the money and the chain
resource may be fatal, endin’ out with the [?]
g thang when i’m gettin’ high in a while
my mind creatin’ mental boost, puffin’ up on my blackened mouth
make me dial 6+6+6 and drinkin’ brew
i’m on the routes to h+ll, what the f+ck should i do?
warn the crew, separate the lies from the truths
and every move i make ’em relate, know how to get the loot
[chorus]
i’m on the routes to h+ll, what the f+ck should i do?
can’t listen to moms ’cause she don’t rolls with my crew
sh+t ain’t right, money’s tight in this age
another n+gga caught slippin’ on the front page
i’m on the routes to h+ll, what the f+ck should i do?
can’t listen to moms ’cause she don’t rolls with my crew
sh+t ain’t right, money’s tight in this age
another n+gga caught slippin’ on the front page

[verse 2]
keep ya head up in the pen till we see you again
i l!ck shots in the air kid and pour straight gin
when the revolution comes son i know you’ll be ready
until that day we meet again keep your mind rock steady
keep your head up and maintain, a steady balanced brain
i feel nothin’ but pain ’cause you locked up in that cage
kids goin’ up in our hood, they startin’ to front
remember delby, he got popped over a blunt
and these clubs ain’t safe but i’ll just go anyway
i’ll be waitin’ for the day to display the stolen bullets from the mia
a knuckle sandwich souffle
all i’m tryna say, it ain’t that easy out here
but we holdin’ down the fort till you get outta there
oh yeah the n+ggas from 4th, i heard they tryna plot
to catch you in your sleep with some sharpened ass rocks
it don’t stop, n+gga be singin’ the blues like they was bb
they caught in welfare, they say it’s good for our city
woman, man and child, i know it’s gon’ be wild
clipped [?] capacity for n+ggas livin’ foul
he know i ain’t slippin’ and i’m down for the rocks
but i ain’t tryna push the bases, get popped and kick the bucket
f+ck it, i’m goin’ all out, that new expense
give a pound to little rich i heard he just got in the ditch
he won’t last long, prolly do that suicide thang
a changer to the moods [?] coroner [?]
you the man, maintain dude and check your commissary
don’t lose all your squares in one game of solitaire
i know it’s hereditary rolled by you and the oldest
i couldn’t have been your fault, them crowds planted all the rules
i’m on the routes to h+ll but please don’t tell me i didn’t warn ya
[chorus]
i’m on the routes to h+ll, what the f+ck should i do?
can’t listen to moms ’cause she don’t rolls with my crew
sh+t ain’t right, money’s tight in this age
another n+gga caught slippin’ on the front page
i’m on the routes to h+ll, what the f+ck should i do?
can’t listen to moms ’cause she don’t rolls with my crew
sh+t ain’t right, money’s tight in this age
another n+gga caught slippin’ on the front page

[outro]
(inaudible)

- truz usa lyrics

Random Lyrics

HOT LYRICS