Trae Tha Truth, Jim Jones - Coming Around the Corner lyrics
[Trae Tha Truth, Jim Jones - Coming Around the Corner lyrics]
When I'm coming, round that corner
All you haters, better get up out of my range
Run up on me, if you wanna
I ain't gon play no games
At all when I'm taking my aim
Cause you gonna be a goner
You thinking of taking mine
Late night when the 84's swang
I know you niggas in the game
Gotta feel the same
Make a jacker feel the pain and he
Can charge it to the game
I'm doing a buck on the loop
In the Porsche clean
I'm trying to cut in the coupe
With this tall thing but fuck a bitch
Trying to get it by all means
I'm on my shit
Get a whiff of New York scene
If I meet the right mexican
Get it for fourteen and he got them bricks
I could get it across clean
And for the city, and fix 'em like morphine
Cop 'em when we rock the dice
And we get it like Rothstein
They know, I'm willing to risk it
On trial for possessions
Still concealing the biscuit
Shouts to Trae, and my Dub's Southwest
And my fair Eastside
And all my Blood's out West
But my shorties down South
Ain't got forty for a house
But they ride old schools
And put forty in they mouth
Mix Sprite with a deuce
Sip the oil from the cup
All night we gon cruise
With big toys in the trucks
And we got our music screwed
Like we crawling in a truck
Strip clubs make it rain
Thunderstorm off of bucks (talking)
You know, it's your boy Jones
For my nigga Trae (Capo)
I stay strapped with the automatic
Living the best of my situation
I come around the corner busting
And empty the clip with no hesitation
The shit that I be on
Is what us niggas be living
Ain't nobody finna take up off mine
I give a fuck what these haters feeling
Out the Southwest
My reputation known to exceed it'self
And 84's commit's to turn
Amongst the blocks that I bleed to death
They watching me
But my nature gotta be taking it's time
Cause I got a set of hands
Similar to Roy Jones in his prime
And if needed
I got the Crips and Bloods and BD's
That'll click on pussy niggas
Like I'm forced to click on cd's
Don't think if it's a problem
Bitch ass nigga you can see these it's ABN
And if I rush the game it's gon be TD's
So be easy homie
I don't think you really wanna see
Me call that play out
Cause if I do somebody ass get layed out
And either way I'ma ride for
Mine and lie for mine
Fuck it I'll die for mine
I keep it gangsta to the end
It ain't getting by with mine
Shouts to the Dub-Southwest, ha
Shouts to the bloody 5th, RIP my nigga D-Ray
ET i see you mo'fucker, ha ha you know
This some straight G'd up shit nigga
I'm in my second home, Houston nigga
It's hot here and we don't play fair
You know the rule
Come in peace or leave in pieces
Fall back or fall back
We about that nigga, New York's rider man
One Eye Willie, Capo Status, Goonies
All over the world nigga, fifty state rebel
Ride with me and die with me, ghetto stand up
Rap version Che Guervero
But I'm realer than that
Get your ass capped, peeled back
All you haters, better get up out of my range
Run up on me, if you wanna
I ain't gon play no games
At all when I'm taking my aim
Cause you gonna be a goner
You thinking of taking mine
Late night when the 84's swang
I know you niggas in the game
Gotta feel the same
Make a jacker feel the pain and he
Can charge it to the game
I'm doing a buck on the loop
In the Porsche clean
I'm trying to cut in the coupe
With this tall thing but fuck a bitch
Trying to get it by all means
I'm on my shit
Get a whiff of New York scene
If I meet the right mexican
Get it for fourteen and he got them bricks
I could get it across clean
And for the city, and fix 'em like morphine
Cop 'em when we rock the dice
And we get it like Rothstein
They know, I'm willing to risk it
On trial for possessions
Still concealing the biscuit
Shouts to Trae, and my Dub's Southwest
And my fair Eastside
And all my Blood's out West
But my shorties down South
Ain't got forty for a house
But they ride old schools
And put forty in they mouth
Mix Sprite with a deuce
Sip the oil from the cup
All night we gon cruise
With big toys in the trucks
And we got our music screwed
Like we crawling in a truck
Strip clubs make it rain
Thunderstorm off of bucks (talking)
You know, it's your boy Jones
For my nigga Trae (Capo)
I stay strapped with the automatic
Living the best of my situation
I come around the corner busting
And empty the clip with no hesitation
The shit that I be on
Is what us niggas be living
Ain't nobody finna take up off mine
I give a fuck what these haters feeling
Out the Southwest
My reputation known to exceed it'self
And 84's commit's to turn
Amongst the blocks that I bleed to death
They watching me
But my nature gotta be taking it's time
Cause I got a set of hands
Similar to Roy Jones in his prime
And if needed
I got the Crips and Bloods and BD's
That'll click on pussy niggas
Like I'm forced to click on cd's
Don't think if it's a problem
Bitch ass nigga you can see these it's ABN
And if I rush the game it's gon be TD's
So be easy homie
I don't think you really wanna see
Me call that play out
Cause if I do somebody ass get layed out
And either way I'ma ride for
Mine and lie for mine
Fuck it I'll die for mine
I keep it gangsta to the end
It ain't getting by with mine
Shouts to the Dub-Southwest, ha
Shouts to the bloody 5th, RIP my nigga D-Ray
ET i see you mo'fucker, ha ha you know
This some straight G'd up shit nigga
I'm in my second home, Houston nigga
It's hot here and we don't play fair
You know the rule
Come in peace or leave in pieces
Fall back or fall back
We about that nigga, New York's rider man
One Eye Willie, Capo Status, Goonies
All over the world nigga, fifty state rebel
Ride with me and die with me, ghetto stand up
Rap version Che Guervero
But I'm realer than that
Get your ass capped, peeled back