74 Hours versuri

74 Hours lyrics by Dubba-AA, CEO Trayle

Intro: CEO Trayle
Yeah (Dubba-AA flex)
Yeah (Winning lottery numbers coming up)
Turn my vocals up a lil’ bit more
Yeah

Verse: CEO Trayle
I lost my brother, nigga, you know I couldn’t barely eat
I lost my other brother, nigga, and I couldn’t barely sleep
They say I’m famous, a grim reaper, I can’t barely reap
No, I don’t fuck with bro no more, even though we claim the same street (This is the sound)
Uh, I ain’t goin’ back, ain’t no nigga takin’ me
Had to stick with plan A ‘cause ain’t no plan B
Yeah, if I nut in you, bitch, I wasn’t thinkin’ ‘bout no plan B
Uh, last nigga made the news, that’s just for playin’ with me
Mix the Percocets and ecstasy, ain’t told you to follow me
Let Backdoor get in his zone, lil’ bitch, I ain’t ask you to bother me
Look at thе man that I became, sometimеs I wish my father see
Yeah, I don’t really like to talk about that shit, that bother me
Yeah, I don’t even know if I’m good or bad for how I raise my seed
Yeah, teach my boy to never play, when he do, play for keep
Yeah, no, my daddy ain’t teach me shit, I learned that from the streets
Don’t wear your feelings on your sleeve, I learned that from the streets
Yeah, and grab that fire before you leave, I learned that from the streets
Yeah, and make sure ‘fore you say anything, you know they gon’ want receipts
Yeah, I backdoor niggas in front they face, I’ll never be a thief
Yeah, you can’t look inside that mirror and never be a chief
Yeah, look at that man inside that mirror and all I see is me
Yeah, I knock three times, say Backdoor four, I pop up ‘cross the street
Uh, the label said if I wan’ be bigger, then I gotta start some beef
Yeah, that’s why Lucien grandson, he don’t like me
They call my name, my poker under my mat at Rice Street
Yeah, up that bitch right now bare-faced, nigga, I barely ski
And Dubba-AA had pulled me in, told me, „Just rap, nigga, we gon’ eat”
Mm, I’m doin’ just that, nigga, I don’t even pick the beat
Yeah, you could be a teacher, still niggas gotta learn
Yeah, roll my oppers up like Usher, nigga, they gotta burn
Yeah, and just wait, be patient, everybody got a turn
Just gotta stay free for it, gotta stay P for it
Yeah, you in the kitchen lookin’ crazy, got me P-noid
Yeah, nigga, the trap the stu’, it’s residue on my keyboard
Run in the trap, we shoot wherever you want, you’ll bleed for it
Yeah, whatever I do for us, nigga, everybody in my team know it
Yeah, I just popped a Percocet, hope that fill the void
Yeah, turned the song up at the stu’, hope that kill the noise
Yeah, but I still hear that voice
I still hear voices, yeah, sayin’, „Fuck him, go back door him,” still ain’t got no choice
Yeah, I still run from 12, I don’t even know what I’m runnin’ for
Yeah, that’s just instinct, make a bitch think
Yeah, me and Dub did this shit in how many hours? Seventy-three?
And on the seventy-fourth hour, grew a money tree

Outro
(This is the sound)