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xvii - true story lyrics

[intro: pimp c]
b-tch!
true story little b-tch
trademark
smoke somethin’, b-tch!

[verse 1: pimp c]

drop seven in the pot, hit it with the soda
now i got what them cali boys call a-1 yola
the south is circles and atlanta is squares
you lyin’ ’bout the prices, it ain’t seventeen up there
i’m down with young buck and buck down with pimp c
but ain’t n0body got ’em for ten in no d-mn tennessee
it might be twenty-seven or it might be twenty three
dog and biz use to come and get ’em for sixteen from me
they had two n-ggas that would drive the sh-t back
and they were servin’ t, i took his b-tch and his ‘lac
his jewelry and his money and his 5.0
she had a baby from priest, but that’s still my hoe
she was translating spanish with the mexican
tryna get a better price, t got f-cked in the end
she a square now, dog and biz both dead
and p-ssy n-gga t got locked in the feds
that was his ferrari in the in the juvie video
the b-tch k!lled dog cause he was f-ckin’ his hoe
same time, t was f-ckin’ dog wife
shot him from the back, t a b-tch for life
so if you see me in the streets, b-tch, better keep steppin’
cause even on parole, i’m ice cold with the weapon
so r.i.p. to big dog and his mother
but at least before he died he k!lled your p-ssy -ss brother

[hook: xvii]
aye look, you n-ggas ain’t real
you lyin’ on your records
you f-ckin’ with the trill
so n-gga come check us lil’ b-tch
a true story lil’ b-tch
true story lil’ b-tch
a true story lil’ b-tch
hol’ up!
(x2)

[verse 2: xvii]
aye look they call me young rayful, i keep that white b-tch
so drop it in a pot, p-ssy n-gga get rich
the ‘lac sittin’ pretty, all black chrome lid
i keep it occupied by a bad yellow b-tch
she stay out on the stroll tryna get daddy rich
a couple pink booties entered with the b-tch
i done lost everything that i own but my d-ck
the music ain’t nothin’, so i had to push bricks
so i hit the f-ckin’ slab for the 16.5
f-ck scorin’ at the crib cause that sh-t to high
bad b-tch, fake t-tties push ’em home in the ride
pop a xanax pill, two cars behind
aye look my nerves f-cked up i just spent 82.5
if she get pulled over n-gga, then i might as well die
but i’m a make it home n-gga, set that b-tch on fire
for every 36 b-tch i’m making 72

[verse 3: xvii]
they say i’m just like a pimp

- xvii lyrics

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