war stories - tm88 lyrics
tm88 * war stories (feat. calboy & slatt zy)
this sh*t sound crazy
oh
look up to my fallen soldiers every morning
if you knew what i did in these streets you wouldn’t adore me
spend a hundred racks on mike amiri jeans, it don’t get boring, ayy
and i made it out them trenches, i got war stories, ayy
we was just in the field like we playin’ baseball, ayy
on the block with a big glock and an eight ball, ayy
mama mad, she just want me to get a day job
with a mask on and my hoodie up like trayvon
in the tinted whip with a big draco, an ar
i was poppin’ a whole lotta xanny pills for the anger
i know the opps was sendin’ them shots, but n*gga, your aim off
they turned me to a lil’ savage, n*gga, i blame y’all
you know i grip on this ratchet, tool can get flamed off
all of my lil’ n*ggas slide, and boy, you in danger
she give me top while i’m driving, i’m in a ranger
most of these b*tches be actin’, they showing fake love
shut up, n*gga, listen, i paint vivid pictures
n*ggas looking at me different, i can feel attention
we was like fifteen totin’ bl!cks and gettin’ suspended
way too focused on gettin’ this money, b*tch, i’m out here gettin’ it
look up to my fallen soldiers every morning
if you knew what i did in these streets you wouldn’t adore me
spend a hundred racks on mike amiri jeans, it don’t get boring, ayy
and i made it out them trenches, i got war stories, ayy
we was just in the field like we playin’ baseball, ayy
on the block with a big glock and an eight ball, ayy
mama mad, she just want me to get a day job
with a mask on and my hoodie up like trayvon
stick on me, no eight ball
these f*ck n*ggas, they play hard
not had to work a day job
i don’t see n*ggas like ray charles
i was, um, kicked out of school
young n*gga clutchin’ on the tools
but i ain’t have a clue to know what to do
b*tch, i go to school
and i’m seventeen and i’m feeling used
hurt my f*cking heart, i put you on the news
before i self*destruct, b*tch, i’ma bust one of these tools
i been scarred my whole d*mn life, b*tch, you can probably see the proof
now i got back on my sh*t, i had a lot of sh*t to prove, yeah
load up the clip, put one in the head, i had to show how we livin’
it ain’t my fault, we from the hood so we was raised around k!llin’
my heart been broken for a minute, ain’t no need for the healin’
zeze, he really in these streets, he find this street sh*t appealing
look up to my fallen soldiers every morning
if you knew what i did in these streets you wouldn’t adore me
spend a hundred racks on mike amiri jeans, it don’t get boring, ayy
and i made it out them trenches, i got war stories, ayy
we was just in the field like we playin’ baseball, ayy
on the block with a big glock and an eight ball, ayy
mama mad, she just want me to get a day job
with a mask on and my hoodie up like trayvon
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