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lirik lagu behind barz (take 3) – squeeks

[verse]
n*ggas change for the money
a n*gga dig his own grave for the money
we get paid from the money
ain’t sh*t changed, just switched lanes from the money
everybody banging, i was holding on the cannon
should i do this rapping? i can’t figure out the balance
and some say “squeek you got a talent”
but i can’t hear that sh*t when i’m putting on my bally
i been out here for years, soon come to a decade
write real raps, i ain’t giving you an essay
with a couple black, white boys and some eses
you don’t speak money n*gga, no comprende
these n*ggas p*ssed, get the green light
i be putting in shifts, looking all night
or should i have a kid, settle down with a wife
i got bipolar, i can’t think right
remember times i had the polo, them times
shootouts with the other side, izzy headlines
this sh*t ain’t made up, i ain’t rolling with these fake f*cks
friends turn snakes, b*tch boys need to wake up
i stayed up bagging up, jonesy times
eighteen, i was slapping off my chromey right
my ex cheated, from then it was lonely nights
got beef with some pr*cks so i sold my ride
and just to p*ss ’em off, i copped the four*wheel drive
you’re talking all that sh*t, you ain’t got no stripes
these are not my shoes, you are not my size
and now the watch froze, i guess i’m lost in time
swagger’s always on a hundred, ball without a budget
if i’m flying out, i ain’t bringing any luggage
shotz came home, that’s my cousin
now they got me screaming “free smoke from the dungeon”
they locked my n*gga up, he got a eight do four
this the second time he been behind that door
i was smoking on the loud, i can’t face my thoughts
i hate to see a n*gga get a l in court
and we profesh, no learners, blessed, don’t curse us
my n*ggas might be stressed, not nervous
no bunsens but we got burners
feds on patrol, i’m praying that they don’t search us
i’m p*ssed off, n*ggas wan’ put me in a mood again
fly boys n*gga, i don’t wanna shoot at them
honestly i don’t wanna move to pen
no soldier so i guess i’m on the loose again
n*ggas crumble, call ’em cookies
banks you ain’t bad, you’re a p*ssy
how the f*ck you get dropped? you’re a rookie
sh*t, your career looking jade goody
i’m a bully when p*ssies be acting a fool
i don’t really trust him but me and blacks still cool
and me pro don’t talk, westy and weez still there
years talk my nig and we seen some years
no more screaming “ronzo’s home”
the shh*shh on my semi, big long nose
and my wrist still froze, nowadays i don’t f*ck with jones
thirty*five hundred on the finger, that’s for soul
i sit down, a bit of biz with my nig white gold
nando’s, a bit of chips, put these chicks on hold
there’s a lot to this sh*t that these pr*cks don’t know
i’m out in the sticks, big whips, guns and coke
and all my n*ggas whip audis
my don’s locked, they got me screaming “free lowry”
team izzy, yeah we up in this
no gucc on me but there’s g’s all around me
my n*gga face on the come*up
still roll on a n*gga if he’s one up
you’re calling out my name, these b*tch boys better have a strolla
i’ll be posted on your block like it’s summer, heatwave
i’m knee deep in the game
chicks want pics, put me on freeze frame
flip two bricks, get mine in each day
each day i see cake
and i’m loyal my n*gga
king of the streets so i’m royal my n*gga
came from the dirt, no soil my n*gga
i spit crack, no wrap, no foil my n*gga

- squeeks

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