Lyrics
Play with fire,
You get burned
When the heat was on
I turned
Turned to trouble
Trouble
[verse 1]
Yeah yeah c-3
New Orleans baby the street called eagle
And everybody's ill yea illegal
People steal cars we steal people
We eat like dogs but we're still people
And even when your lost trouble still see you
And even if your dead broke we are still equal
One time for the little people eat your meal
Don't let the meal eat you
(I run to trouble)
Street runners
Your running me crazy with this one
I
Run
With
Trouble
[Verse 2]
And just the other day my nigga Chris killed himself
I pray to god that I never feel the way he felt
Where do we go when theres no help
He figured heaven so he went left
Ya'll know that ain't right
Plus he was high as a plane on that same night
Shit I probably been on that same flight
Shit I probably had that same fight
I just kept swinging
Twelve rounds come and bells ringing
(i run to trouble, trouble)
Introduced to the game when I was just a child
Mama know the drug dealers straight quit her job
He took his life and along with him I died
And she died
We died...
Then came my daughter to my bedside
Told me, "daddy, don't cry, I'm alive"
I look her in the eyes and see me with no sins
But this is how the note ends
I have walked a bitter line
Chosen second over the 1
Still I look for better times
I run with trouble, trouble...
You know
Just kicking back
(Though I look for brighter times)
I am carter
(I run to trouble)
Ya know
(Trouble)
[Verse 2]
The tooley poked out the jeans
The coke smell just like a bunch of coffee beans
Ya nah mean
And everything ain't what it seems
Ya nah mean
Don't play that game without your team
Kill for my bread
Kill for my g's
Kill for my cream
I will have that red beam on high beam
Now I hear sirens
Wait I think I see one behind me
I ain't tripping baby
Money got me, uh
And fuck the police
Fuck the feds too
I ain't jumping in that jumpsuit
A blunt too
I'm on my one two
Check me out
I fuck around and check you
Respect due
Pay yours nigga
Mines under the seat by my feet
Wheres your nigga
Too much whores nigga huh
Too much pressure
Too much force
Too much money
You never heard that before
Shit, and we stop these snitches at the door
Cut the tail off the rat he wont rat no more
Whack
No more
Thats right
Get trapped fucking with my cheese
Keep shooting till I burn my sleeve
Nigga please
These boys is g's
Represent New Orleans like a Florida leash
What you know about it
We more than thieves
Steal from the rich so the poor can eat
Niggas act up
Or niggas act accordingly
Hey soldier don't war with me
You don't want it
WRITERS
SHOLA AMA, RICHARD COWIE, JASON BLACK, SADIE AMA, DANIEL BAKER, Jason Peter Black
PUBLISHERS
Lyrics © Sony/ATV Music Publishing LLC, Royalty Network
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