Dead Men Don't Talk - Project Pat, Indo G

Got’chu layin in ya blood, got’cho body in the chalk

Caught’chu slippin after dark

(Verse 1, Indo G)

I’m oh-so oh-so fresh, when I send shots on my block

And I’m somewhat fuckin coool, clientele won’t stop

Five for the fifth, or just ten for the pill

Niggas chill as I slides to the side, Coupe DeVille

Peel caps on a busta, see hes a stupid motherfucka

Talkin shit about my business, you best to duck

I got’chu on the infrared, in a mess;

where you goin

I hope you got nine lives cause you bodies will have holes in and out

Pull ups on Johnson, yo I stacks up and chill

Come on just let us buy, just some twenty dollar bills

Is you is or is you ain’t the D.E.A.

or cluckers?

Hope you ain’t them folks, cause you some dead motherfuckas

That’s all a nigga know, is a pocket full of bolos

Fresh sparklin BITCH, so motherFUCK some Polo’s

I’ll never get a job, it’s too much cheese in my hood

As long as I’m bout my hustle, I’m a nigga up to no good

(Hook x4, Project Pat &)

Got’chu layin in ya blood, got’cho body in the chalk

Caught’chu slippin after dark

(Verse 2, Project Pat)

A million, a million

Project was a million

Bullet slugs, I drilled them

Do I have to kill them?

Peel them, domes to the back, just to protect mine

Will them, cowards get the ups on me with the nine?

Draw yo iron, if you think that you is a deadly kid

Shot you why you wantin, now get off, see now what’chu did

Gots the kid gone and with us, 'fore them police bust

Car fulla that dope, I’m the shooter with the dirty Ruger

Do you bow down like a fool, and become a snitch?

Workin for the Feds, man you lames

Let the hammer twist, back motherfuckas crushin heads like some grapes

Point blank motherfucka, mask out, thirty-eight demonstration

Third point state in the nation, where I live

But I’ve seen more dope than a Haitian

Floatin, in the city streets, keep yo eyes closed

You ain’t seen shit, or your mouth hit these bullet holes

(Hook x4, Project Pat &)

Got’chu layin in ya blood, got’cho body in the chalk

Caught’chu slippin after dark

Comin straight from the hood dude

This nigga they call Ms. Smokey mayn

Evil thoughts is in my head, sometimes I feel I’m insane

Creepin up outta the dark with no heart, now it’s time to kill

Hit me a scope, now I have hope, bullets you know this shit so real

Have no anger, torture chamber, now yo life’s in fuckin danger

Dead men don’t walk, and they sure in the hell don’t talk

First they told it me, then they tellin me

Next they plannin, hopin to strip me from my life

God give me sanity

And in my mind, I’m racin, still racin

Chargin for the outcome, but it’s death I’m facin

And too deep callin, no stallin;

chicken steps

Remorse is wealth as I breath my last breath

Word, a nigga murdered on the streets by that heat

No witness to witness this, or the police

Fuck it I guess, I’m dead

A nigga reserve my head, promise to kill the body with the spread

(Hook x2 to fade, Project Pat &)

Got’chu layin in ya blood, got’cho body in the chalk

Caught’chu slippin after dark