Letras Friends We Know - Fat Pat, Fat Pat feat. C-Blount

Friends We Know

Yuh\nYou gotta feel this (that's right)\nNahm sayin'\nYou make enemies, turn your back on a playa (huh)\nWhat’s up Blunty\nFriends we know done turned enemies\nBecause we stacking big paper collecting our cheese\nWe just some G’s on a mission nah we ain’t trippin'\nAlways packin' pistols, can’t never be slippin' because\nFriends we know done turned enemies\nBecause we stacking big paper collecting our cheese\nWe just some G’s on a mission nah we ain’t trippin'\nAlways packin' pistols, can’t never be slippin'\nI got my hand on my gun, cuz you got me on the run\nBlazin' hot like the sun, Nigga I ain’t the one\nYou betta ask somebody 'bout PAT\nHard hittin' never quittin' breaking of a big piece\nBlowing on swisher sweets, ridin' in leather seats\nRaking H-Town streets, always packin' my heat\nI thought you was my dog, plotted for my downfall\nBecause my paper was tall, back against the wall\nComing out striking like lightning, nigga me and CB\nTwo trill ass playas that you really can’t see\nBut you wanna be, can’t fill our shoes\nStrings tied too tight, 'bout to give you the blues\nSee your face on the news, for that drama you choose\nDon’t break ghetto rules and turn your back on your fools\nThat’s the way that you loose, so survive in the game\nKeep your pistol always to you side 'fore you get a stain\nFriends we know done turned enemies\nBecause the jealousy, the hate trip, and the greed\nThey smile in your face, they talk behind your back\nTo bring you down they try their hardest never will they slack\nPaper stacking, contracting, is a dot on your head\nFucking with a real playa you be left for dead\nUp against all odds and niggas turning to broads\nI keep my distance far away, never be involved\nG’s up, hoes down, hater’s faces frown\nRed benz pulled up and the eyes be round\nTrue partners in crime done turned partners in rhyme\nS U to the city be known for putting it down and uh\nCan’t be slippin' out here ain’t no time for that\nSince the age of thirteen always had a gat\nWho had my back when my money attract\nNiggas who hung around like flies and gnats\nFat Pat on the map and that shits for sure\nDropping bombs like Outbreak when I hit the door\nI’m a freestyle pro just to let y’all know\nBreaking mics like psych, nigga we gotta go\nMy sound beats slow when I’m in your trunk\nBonafide big balla nah I ain’t no punk\nHot slugs what they getting when a grudge is mentioned\nFast chasing, time facing, all snitches erasing\nIntimidation, hesitation, lets me know that they fakin'\nHook some? from these niggas who done say they be hatin'\n? see a nigga fall, watch a nigga ball\nTwenty four years in this game, niggas mashing on y’all