Godfather - Live to Tell lyrics

(*talking*) Worldwide can feel us, f**ing squealers Southside drug dealers, n***as know us Southside Playaz, sit down at the table 2000 Any n***a sitting down huh, getting checks All the details, acting like some f**ing females b**h go count a n***a money, simp a** n***a [Godfather] You rapping gift of gabbing, got the F.B.I. plotting Got H-Town hot, like the banging in Watts Trying to take me from my kids, you hot in a cot Got prices on your head, your life about to get bought 24 hours, is definite you get shot My homegirl f**ed you, that's just the point of the plot Me and Pablo, doing devilish sh** like Diablo Tyte Eyez out the gate, I got legitimate weight Mike D called me up, said some n***a was squealing Giving FED's photography, n***a street biographies Told Clay-Doe, was flying birds through Luado They said 3-2, was connected with some people This n***a see through, rope him up smoke him up Catch him coming home from the club drunk, and murdered the punk Throw him in the trunk, all about that snitching sh** Who we copping from, who we in the kitchen with [Hook - 2x] You might not live to tell, (oh well) These n***as scared of jail, (like hell) Telling everything they know, (like hoes) You think it's all gravy, (well b**h you gotta go) [Mr. 3-2] n***a own up to your case, and take your f**ing charge Don't be a coward motherf**er, when them laws snap the corde He found barred that's infinity, you better open your mouth Don't be scared till the b**h die, to hit that jail house In the South it done got hot, federal agents don't love us My boys is selling they soul, running they dick s**ers Like Kilo and Little Man, the game done went deeper Hope they know that it's over with, if they ever hit the streets Some sh** you keep to yourself, and take it to the grave You bit your tongue put to your throat, for information that you gave I can't save no snitch, and give em no kinda ha**le Let them words that you told, n***a be your last [Hook - 2x] [Clay-Doe] I knew this candy and a hook up, ain't good with sorese Had his peeky at the street, off bout a hundred a week At least boss balling, motherf**er was paid Use to take me to his crib, man b**h was laid Then here come the raid, next to interrogation On fo' hundred a gram, don't even care bout probation Now n***a I ain't crazy, I ain't no god damn fool If you told me that sh**, I woulda shot you too I immediately knew, what I had to do Took him up to his crib, had a bag by his pool Told that n***a I had a surprise, and then I showed him Looked that n***a in his eyes, and then I told him [Hook - 2x] [Mike D] I know this n***a from the hood, use to juggle them goods A stand up cat, did his dirt in the woods Took him from a fifty packer, to a kilo stacker Block bleeder fa sho, full time Columbian jacker Took hood money to good money, put me in the studio Wish I woulda knew then, how this dirty game go n***a you think don't fold, go out like hoes Pressure bust the pipe, this n***a sold his soul Tied the whole click in, during interrogation Turned a three brick hit, to a 21 vacation Knowing you hit the streets, your ghetto pa** is void Put fifty in that