"Dying With Your Boots On" lyrics
Trouble seems to catch a motherfucker with his cards down
Gotta keep my drawers up, shit's getting hard now
These motherfucking cops be planting shit on these niggas
Simply because these niggas got bank accounts that's bigger
I just can't get no peace from you motherfucking rollers
Every time I pull my Benz-o out, you pull me over
I'm sick of motherfuckers who be jocking Whitey's coattails
Blacker than a motherfucker, sweat me 'bout my dope sales
Niggas just take your cut and get your ass up out my face
The only thing you probably get from me is a cock-sucking pistol case
Unless you plan on planting a lil' something in my shit
Just because you ain't got shit, bitch!
Give 'em a badge and a trigger and that makes 'em figure
That they can fuck with a million-dollar nigga
They got you mixed up, fixed up, that's a shame
'Cause you can end up gettin' fucked up in game
The only way you'll whip that motherfucker is when you whip that motherfucker
And we choke the motherfucker (Man, fuck that motherfucker!)
So when you hear my song and wanna get it on
You better come prepared motherfucker, you dying with your boots on
(Put ya foot in my shoe, and let me try on your boots)
Dying with your boots on
(Put ya foot in my shoe, and let me try on your boots)
Yeah
Do you know how many years you're facing inside?
25 to life and that's on the real
So you better snitch on your partner
Fuck that! It was Brad Dawg, I ain't going out by myself
Niggas getting caught, doing time, so they snitching
They picking niggas up on a funky-ass suspicion
We'll be going down for some questioning we think
And end up getting hit with the fucking kitchen sink
Racketeering, laundering, kingpin wondering
If they got some unsolved murders, then give him some of them
Just because we're niggas and they figure we're no smarter
We'll sell each other out, and start rattin' on our partners
They start bringing up shit that happened back in '85
And in comes the lie just to reduce their fuckin' time!
You might as well play the state 'cause you gon' do day for day
And selling out your homeboys ain't the shit
'Cause y'all gonna have to die in this bitch, bitch!
Mobbing with your white suits on
And dying with your motherfucking boots on
(Put ya foot in my shoe, and let me try on your boots)
Gotta keep my drawers up, shit's getting hard now
These motherfucking cops be planting shit on these niggas
Simply because these niggas got bank accounts that's bigger
I just can't get no peace from you motherfucking rollers
Every time I pull my Benz-o out, you pull me over
I'm sick of motherfuckers who be jocking Whitey's coattails
Blacker than a motherfucker, sweat me 'bout my dope sales
Niggas just take your cut and get your ass up out my face
The only thing you probably get from me is a cock-sucking pistol case
Unless you plan on planting a lil' something in my shit
Just because you ain't got shit, bitch!
Give 'em a badge and a trigger and that makes 'em figure
That they can fuck with a million-dollar nigga
They got you mixed up, fixed up, that's a shame
'Cause you can end up gettin' fucked up in game
The only way you'll whip that motherfucker is when you whip that motherfucker
And we choke the motherfucker (Man, fuck that motherfucker!)
So when you hear my song and wanna get it on
You better come prepared motherfucker, you dying with your boots on
(Put ya foot in my shoe, and let me try on your boots)
Dying with your boots on
(Put ya foot in my shoe, and let me try on your boots)
Yeah
Do you know how many years you're facing inside?
25 to life and that's on the real
So you better snitch on your partner
Fuck that! It was Brad Dawg, I ain't going out by myself
Niggas getting caught, doing time, so they snitching
They picking niggas up on a funky-ass suspicion
We'll be going down for some questioning we think
And end up getting hit with the fucking kitchen sink
Racketeering, laundering, kingpin wondering
If they got some unsolved murders, then give him some of them
Just because we're niggas and they figure we're no smarter
We'll sell each other out, and start rattin' on our partners
They start bringing up shit that happened back in '85
And in comes the lie just to reduce their fuckin' time!
You might as well play the state 'cause you gon' do day for day
And selling out your homeboys ain't the shit
'Cause y'all gonna have to die in this bitch, bitch!
Mobbing with your white suits on
And dying with your motherfucking boots on
(Put ya foot in my shoe, and let me try on your boots)
Writer(s): Brad Jordan, Joseph Johnson
