Juicy J, Driicky Graham, Project Pat - Ain’t Allowed Where I’m From lyrics

Trippy Nation nigga young Ced on the beat
Watch these snitches mane

These nigga's dropping dimes
They some real snitches
The only dimes that I ever
Dropped was some bitches
I’ma cut some fingers, I’ma clip some tongues
Cause all that point in talkin'
Ain’t allowed where I’m from

Nigga stuck off in the fare
Fucking with them bricks
His partners put them laws on him
Over a bitch these pussy nigga's scared
Don’t wanna take they charge
They swear they hard but they
Softer then cotton balls (ho)
Real nigga's go to jail and
Don’t tell them nothing (true)
Do that time
Come back home then get back to hustling
(true) we got everything for sale
But the kitchen sink (true)
Keep my eyes on you snakes
I don’t even blink (bitch)
Boy you scared
You gonna tell them white folks everything
(yes sir) to cut your time
You gonna give up errybody name (pussy)
Snitching nigga you ain’t straight
Them folks gonna find you dead
Cut your tongue out your mouth and
Put one in ya head

These nigga's dropping dimes
They some real snitches
The only dimes that I ever
Dropped was some bitches
I’ma cut some fingers, I’ma clip some tongues
Cause all that point in talkin'
Ain’t allowed where I’m from

The bigger the gun, the bigger the slug
The bigger the hole for doc to plug
Holdin' your head, I put you to sleep
Body not found, mama gon’ weep
Droppin the dime and runnin your mouth
Nowhere to run, down in the south
Meet ya wrong, I hop on the phone
Goons on route, burners out
You screamin' pig, I blow up your wig
Vocals smokin' just like a cig
Blowin' on kush and sippin' on hen
Forgive me father for your sin
Meet ya wrong, I'm able again
Convicted felon, back in the pen
Pistol in face, you wit attention
They goin' for twelve, I got em for ten
He threw me them bowls, he knew I'm a boss
He looking for bread, he know that’s a loss
I cross em a corn, mixed somethin' me deal
And separate the fact from the real
You play the cards, bet you a deal
Behind them bars, now you gon’ squeal
You playin' these streets
We playin' for real
Jail come wit it, swallow that meal

These nigga's dropping dimes
They some real snitches
The only dimes that I ever
Dropped was some bitches
I’ma cut some fingers, I’ma clip some tongues
Cause all that point in talkin'
Ain’t allowed where I’m from

Prime time snitchin' lies
Got line twistin' guys
Take the clip to make a flick
No blind side or district 9
Trying to dodge prison time
All die for fishin' by smith and 9's
(pow pow pow) , if you mention mines
One: put you in a scope
Two: clack then it's smoke
Three scoop you up and put
Ya body in a envelope
Four: send yo folks jus ya head, chest, guts
Now you leakin' body stinkin' up
The Fed Ex truck and that fed pressure
Makes the snitches wanna roast you
They start droppin dimes like they
Coins miss the toll booth
God as my witness man I swear
To tell the whole truth
Where I'm from we gets it done and
Act like we don't know dude

These nigga's dropping dimes
They some real snitches
The only dimes that I ever
Dropped was some bitches
I’ma cut some fingers, I’ma clip some tongues
Cause all that point in talkin'
Ain’t allowed where I’m from