"Felonies" as written by Jacoby White and N Writer Unknown....
what's up with partner, Where he live, Where he stay at
Where the ice, where the bread, where the cake at?
I'm telling you man you don't want it with dem boyz,
Everyone of them got felonies man!
I'm slap me a nigga, befoe its over with,
I'm rush me a nigga, befoe its over with,
Duct tape me a nigga, befoe its over with,
I'm bust me a nigga, befoe its over with.

I'm sick & I'm tired of niggas asking bout mine
If I'm cockin that iron, I'm telling you I'm sending them signs
I move fast forward I ain't got no button to rewind
I react of instinct I ain't stressin no time
I came a long way from peddlin rocks
Block recognized the gansta & he up my stock
Showed me the recipe & other grams I copped
Home ain't a home withoutta arm & hammer box
Shit, Jeezy just be being on that cell
Got them pre-teen numbers I like, like R.Kelly (I got that work nigga)
Lotta niggas they be claimin the spot
But we the only ones that still represent it like mascots
So ask not why my attitude is shitty
Step aside why a real nigga move the city, huh
From my block to your block niggas know me
They know that ole reppin ass niggas a O.G.
We use to rock flip-flops, tube socks with gold teeth
& A flip flop crease with gold shoes on all they feet
Please believe we ain't playing no games
But I will take a charge if you try to drive my lane
Plus I gotta donkey dick to drive the broads in sane
I'm a street cat, shit you know I'm hard to tame

[HOOK] 1x

I'm a gansta mutha fucka if you ever seen one
Black fitty cap nigga & some Air Force One's
Hey & I'm strapped so don't set trip
.45 hitcha make your whole chest split
Sleepy Brown nigga I can't wait
Fifty grand round my neck like bait
Hey & keep thinking its gravy
Everybody from my hood know Jeezy is crazy
& I ain't playin witcha mother fuckers
Shoot both of y'all make y'all niggas blood brothers (thats righhht)
& I'm so sincere, I ain't playing witcha niggas this year
(Hey we gone rob dem Boyz n Da Hood) Bitch please
I'll kill a mutha fucks bout Jody Breeze
Yeah nigga that's the truth, bout Big Dee Big Duke I'll shoot

[HOOK] 1x

I'm telling you man I be rollin on dem corners no Range no necklace man
Range Rover no rims left they neck in da pain
& Put the silencer on the tip professional man
Pressure point blank like a sexual change
& Splitcha head down the middle like a sectional man
Hard blow to hard coat exsposen the four
Even though I tote gun I don't rob no more
Now here I go on the patio with a flat head screwdriver
Prying on the side door in a gat proof suit liner
Calm but I'm wide open they act I'm do something
Quite its going down on em with a Mac 11 two rifle
Pistol, pumps, switch & knives,
Pistol grips, smoked clips, nighsticks & plyers
No myth I'm him fucka get hypnotized
Now get killed in da mist we suggest you ride

[HOOK] 1x

Well I'm the youngest in the click boy
Try me like a bitch & I'll betcha I'll be the first to punch you in ya shit
y'all niggas just talking, y'all niggas ain't ready
y'all niggas don't want none of dis
While y'all out spending 100's on your necks
Spending 100's on your wrist, spending 100's on your rims
I'm on da block spending 100's on bricks
Sending 100's to the J gotta 100 more fits
Fake niggas get killed round here
Its real in the field betta get it how you live
& If not cock back bust atcha cock suckers mutha fucka in fact I will
Cause the niggas that I roll with & blow dro with
Fuck hoes with they outta control
Realer in bumpin chevy's with Mac 11's holdin it steady
Ready to put seven off in your belly boy

[HOOK] 1x

Lyrics submitted by SongMeanings

"Felonies" as written by Lee Dixon Phalon Anton Alexander

Lyrics © Sony/ATV Music Publishing LLC, Warner/Chappell Music, Inc., Ultra Tunes

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Felonies song meanings
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