Trouble

(Album: The Drought Is Over Part 4 - 2007)

City streets, that's where I learned
Play with fire, you get burned
When the heat was on, I turned
Turned to trouble... trouble

Yeah, yeah, C3, yeah
New Orleans baby
A street called Eagle
And everybody's ill
Yeah, illegal
People steal cars
We steal people
We eat like dogs
But we're still people
And even when you're lost
Trouble still see you
And even if you're dead broke
We are still equal
One time for the little people
Eat your meal, don't let your meal eat you
(I run with trouble)
StreetRunner we're crazy with this one
I run with trouble

And just the other day my nigga Chris killed his self
I pray to God that I never feel the way he felt
Where do we go when there's no help?
He figured heaven, so he went left
Y'all 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 coming, bells ringing
(I run with trouble)
Introduced to the game when I was just a child
Mama loved a drug dealer, straight quit her job
They 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 cheap wine)
You know
Just kick it back
(Still I look for brighter times)
I can't call it
(I run with trouble)
You know? Heheh
Yeah, yeah

The tooly poke out the jeans
The coke smell just like a bunch of coffee beans
You know mean?
And everything ain't what it seem
You know mean?
And don't play that game without your team
Kill for my bread, kill for my cheese, 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
(I run with trouble)
And fuck the police, fuck the feds too
I ain't jumping in that jumpsuit
A one-two, I'm on my one-two
Check me out
I fuck around and check you
Respect due
Pay yours nigga
Mine's under the seat
By my feet
Where yours nigga?
Too much hoarse liquor huh
Too much pressure, too much force
Too much money
You never heard that before
Shit
And we stop the snitches at the door
Cut that tail off the rat
He won't rat no more
(I run with trouble)
That's right
Get trapped fucking with my cheese
Keep shooting 'til I burn my sleeves
Nigga, please
These boys is Gs
Represent New Orleans like a fleur-de-lis
Shit
What you know about it
We're more than thieves
Steal from the rich
So the poor can eat
Niggas act up
My niggas act accordingly
Hey soldier, don't war with me
You don't want it