Project Dreams Songtext

von Field Mob

(Blax)
Brick dirty days, state got a big on my stanny
Caught her sellin cocaine, fo'-400 tranny
Every night dreamin bout livin like nanny
So watch for the camera like candy coated panties
Bout to sho flo, sippin on flo fo
Old boys yellin sip searin dash doh
Topin on 17 inch indys, bling bling
From my mouth to my pinky
Enough bout my new recruit and my Fleetwood
Tala la la stable so my folk can eat good
High and gettin out of the heat, the street good
Livin peaceful just like we should
Money leave good, no more sellin reefer
No more air callin station like a leader
When its on all lock doors, comin I either
He aint got to walk in the sun, I can see ya
Dont worry bout the burgular comin ta creep ya
Get trapped by the alarm and a millimeter
I'ma do or die playa for my people
Follow the leader
Why my brother keep up, for real

(Chorus 2X)
I'ma have me a big nice caddy
House on a hill for my mom and my pappy
Still got ham, and I'm still happy
Nigga leave some money no face what a tragedy
If you ever been broke put cha hands up
You been broke put cha hands up
If you ever been broke put cha hands up
You been broke put cha hands up, put em up

(Kalage)
What cha know bout havin no dough
No coat fo the the winter, remember we poor folk
Sposed to cut yolks, and fo pokes
Cut throats in yo dope hoe
Talk bout they want to laugh at 4 door hobo's
Wood gettin mo mo's, I gets Polo
Pockets still swoll, Jenny Craig'n
Nah, Escalade ball with me yo
Breakin up y'all old school
Better get soul food (uuuuuuuuuummmmmm umm)
Tempest greens pork chop string beans
Yo I pray for that, each and every day I rap
I rap regardless idea you ain't really safe with that
Yes stay on slacks as govermment help the welfare
My folks already stood in alone up in the welfare
We ain't have much, unless the rag back gone before it lose
I ran the street momma told me to go to school
But now I got a jabing(?) chain, gold chain I maintain
Mo so I ain't got to slang 'caine
Hell ya boy yuo really understand dirt
When I rap you gone clap till ya hands hurt
I ain't the only person fell like I live
Live like I live and I want to chill
For real

(Chorus 2X)

(Blax & Kalage)
Now put cha hands up, if ya broke ghostwrite I'll call ya
We'll drop another salmon just a sugar wall up
(put cho hands up if you felt my hurt)
(have you ever bathed with soap the size of a Certs)
Done decide to dirt in cause we all know rocks
Is this the real reason furniture go to the pawn shop
(cause the crack head killers smokin the car antennas)
Understand me (it's a junkie in every family)
Hand me down tight pant lookin slim in em
If they to big (what chu do) put a ham in em
When I'm talkin over the loud sounds over the window
Cause the trans vans facing yo car window
Man I been poor (man I been poor) man we been poor
Thats how it is in the Field, for real

(chorus til end)