Scarface

Scarface - Dyin Wit'Cha Boots On lyrics

Gotta keep my drawers up shit's gettin hard now

These motherfuckin cops be plantin shit on these niggas

Simply because these niggas got bank accounts that's bigger

I just can't get no peace from you motherfuckin rollers

Everytime I pull my Benz or what 'cha pull me over

I'm sick of motherfuckers who be checking Whitey's coke tip

Blacker than a motherfucker, sweat me 'bout my *?dope-sip*?

Niggas just take your cut and get your ass up out my face

The only thing you probably get from me is a cock-sucking pistol case

Unless you plan on plantin a lil' somethin in my shit

Just because you ain't got shit, bitch!

Give em a badge and a trigger and that makes em figure

That they can fuck with a million dollar nigga

They got you mixed up, fixed up at the Segas, shookin Indo

Gettin fucked up in the gank-hole

The only way you'll whip that motherfucker is when you whip that

motherfucker

And we choke the motherfucker (Me stuck the motherfucker!)

So when you hear my song and wanna get it on

You better come prepared motherfucker, you dyin wit'cha boots on

Chorus:

(Put ya foot in my shit and let me try on your hood)

Dyin wit'cha boots on

(Put ya foot in my shit and let me try on your hood)

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: Fuck that! It was Brad Dawg, I ain't goin out by myself

Niggas gettin caught, doin time, so they snitchin

They pickin niggas up on a funky ass suspicion

We'll be goin down for some questioning we think

And end up gettin hit with the fuckin kitchen sink

Racketeer and laundering, Kingpin wondering

If they got some unsolved murders, then give him some of them

Just because we're niggas and they figure we're no smarter

We sell each other albums, start frattin on our partners

They start bringin up shit that happened back in '85

And then comes the largest jury, bitch, they fuckin time!

You might as well play the state

Cos you come to day for day

And sellin out your homeboys ain't the shit

Cos y'all gonna have to die in this bitch, bitch!

Lobbin wit'cha white suits on

And dyin wit'cha motherfuckin boots on

(Put ya foot in my shit and let me try on your hood

Get this song at:  amazon.com sheetmusicplus.com

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