Hood prophets ft. GM chop Lyrics

It's Chop

Shout out my nigga Vic , man

G on the movement, shit

Eddie Gang, Long live Jay, Long live Rich

Long live all the Gas Man Freedom members

I stay down when all them niggas switch

I come straight out the bricks

Ain't nobody give me shit

I stay down, had to grind for this

They light it feel so long

But I just sit back, wait my time for this

Too many times they lied and shit

Too many nights I cried and shit

When Eddie died I felt like Melly

Murder on my man and shit

Collect calls from the county

Got my niggas facing time and shit

Keep this shit so real, my fans be telling every line I spit

Think I got it, but I don't

I'm still out here trying to get rich

Life shit just don't feel the same

My brother's dead

The other half, my niggas locked up in them chains

Smoke to try to ease the pain

Pop percs , but I still feel the same

Fell out with the ones I call my brothers

Watch them niggas change

Same niggas in my videos on IG trying to bash my name

It's a dirty game

I forgive you

No love lost, but niggas know they lame

Bitches know they played

If we fuck, keep it a secret

Bitch, don't say my name

Like, why you tell your friends

Like, why the fuck she in my DMs if she got a man

I know she a fan

GM the movement

Not no gang

This shit a fucking brand

I love to pop out at the stage and rock out like a band

Feel like I got the world when I got the mic in my hand

And I know niggas hate

They don't want to see me shine

Took me a minute, but I'm focused and back on my grind

Feel like it been too long, but I sit back and wait my time puttin your trust in all these niggas, that shit get you slimed out

I don't want no smoke, but ain't no ho, so play and find out

Came a long way from them days and wit trey with that nine now

All that tough shit on the media is gonna get you singed out

Said that's gone get you signed out

He ain't got the status

Matter of fact, he want no static

Chilling with the troopers

In the 8, I'm wreaking havoc

I'm just trying to win

Stack my bread, cut loose ends

Know I'm down for this

Say you bouta to spin, you better spin know you sit down to piss, you a bitch

And asking where I'm at, I'm in the slums , chilling with your bitch

Kind of feel like Gotti when I'm putting out these hits

And looking like a tantrum when I'm throwing on these fits

All about my bread, I never fold, I never bend

And if we ever fall out, ain't no way to make amends (why)

She asked me if I love her, and I told her it depends

Like, is you really riding

Is you riding till the end

Cause I don't need a friend (NAH)

I got way too many, and we all about our bread (Yee)

Too busy chasing paper, I can never chase a bitch

(Yeah)

(Yeah)

Too busy chasing paper, I can never chase a bitch