Life of Crime lyrics

[Intro]
(This Neil on the track)
The soul soldier, ha
n*gga, ain't no cap in that, ha
Load up them clips, ha

[Chorus]
Ever since that n*gga died from off that side, they claim that's my fault
Don't bring your ass outside if you ain't 'bout it, we gon' draw that white chalk
Wrong or right, my n*ggas stepping, we don't really like y'all
He play with us, we bust his f*cking melon and turn the lights off
I'm from the city of Savannah where we die all the time
Shoot at your momma, kill your pops every time they come 'cross the line
I feel like Soulja Slim and Pac, I live the life of crime
I'm scared to put some pеnnies in the streets 'cause thеy might drop a dime

[Verse 1]
Ayy, they think 'bout playing with Big Perc they going in the dirt
I'm in they section on a bike, they come outside, I swear I'm shooting first
This Smith & Wesson let off lights, on my life, you going on a shirt
You air my name to get some likes, on your life, you going in the dirt
I like to f*ck on her pus*y every time I'm on Percs
I told her bend that ass over, go on and make that thing squirt
Two double cups, I'm sipping Tech, I sipped the soda then burped
Send my lil' n*gga to the West, and make him take all they work
He rode his bike through over, thought I tried to blow the back off
My n*ggas itching like some pests, swear they can't wait to bite y'all
I got no love for a b*tch, no, I won't never wife y'all
So many times I walked that line, locked behind a white wall
I got a drop on all them n*ggas, we gon' burn up they trap
We on the 3rd with hella pistols, y'all drive by then get clapped
Don't make us pull up on y'all block then take a pic on the Ave
I put this sh*t in VVS's, rolling like I'm handicapped, woah
[Chorus]
Ever since that n*gga died from off that side, they claim that's my fault
Don't bring your ass outside if you ain't 'bout it, we gon' draw that white chalk
Wrong or right, my n*ggas stepping, we don't really like y'all
He play with us, we bust his f*cking melon and turn the lights off
I'm from the city of Savannah where we die all the time
Shoot at your momma, kill your pops every time they come 'cross the line
I feel like Soulja Slim and Pac, I live the life of crime
I'm scared to put some pennies in the streets 'cause they might drop a dime