Dyin Wit’Cha Boots On lyrics

[Scarface]
Trouble seems to catch a motherf*cker with his cards down
Gotta keep my drawers up, sh*t's gettin hard now
These motherf*ckin cops be plantin sh*t on these n*ggas
Simply because these n*ggas got bank accounts that's bigger
I just can't get no peace from you motherf*ckin rollers
Everytime I pull my Benz-o out, you pull me over
I'm sick of motherf*ckers who be jocking Whitey's coattails
Blacker than a motherf*cker, sweat me 'bout my dope-sales
n*ggas just take your cut and get your ass up out my face
The only thing you probably get from me is a c*ck-sucking pistol case
Unless you plan on plantin a lil' somethin in my sh*t
Just because you ain't got sh*t, b*tch!
Give em a badge and a trigger and that makes em figure
That they can f*ck with a million dollar n*gga
They got you mixed up, fixed up, that's a shame
Cause you can end up gettin' f*cked up in game
The only way you'll whip that motherf*cker is when you whip that motherf*cker
And we choke the motherf*cker (Man, f*ck that motherf*cker!)
So when you hear my song and wanna get it on
You better come prepared motherf*cker, you dyin wit'cha boots on

[Chorus]
(Put ya foot in my shoe, and let me try on your boots)
Dyin wit'cha boots on
(Put ya foot in my shoe, and let me try on your boots)
Yeah
[Interlude: prison guard talking to inmate]
Guard: 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
Inmate: f*ck that! It was Brad Dawg, I ain't goin out by myself

[Scarface]
n*ggas gettin caught, doin time, so they snitchin
They pickin n*ggas up on a funky ass suspicion
We'll be goin down for some questioning we think
And end up gettin hit with the f*ckin kitchen sink
Racketeering, laundering, Kingpin wondering
If they got some unsolved murders, then give him some of them
Just because we're n*ggas and they figure we're no smarter
We'll sell each other out, and start rattin' on our partners
They start bringin up sh*t that happened back in '85
And in comes the lie just to reduce they f*ckin' time!
You might as well play the state cause you gon' do day for day
And sellin out your homeboys ain't the sh*t
Cos y'all gonna have to die in this b*tch, b*tch!
Mobbin wit'cha white suits on
And dyin wit'cha motherf*ckin boots on

(Put ya foot in my shoe, and let me try on your boots)