Credits
PERFORMING ARTISTS
Roney
Performer
Tyrone Noel Smith
Lead Vocals
COMPOSITION & LYRICS
Tyrone Noel Smith
Songwriter
PRODUCTION & ENGINEERING
Steve Kroeger
Producer
Lyrics
[Verse 1]
You ain't gotta listen
Still I'ma tell you little story 'bout my life
Little story 'bout my life
[Verse 2]
They want you smoked, lil' ****
But you got some hope, lil' ****
When you sell dope, just make sure you tote
Be ready to blow these lil' ****
Bitches gonna cheat and **** too
Don't do the same shit that bitches do
Bitches gonna fuck you for Jimmy Choos
They gon' put holes in your jimmies too
Really trap jumping like vertical
They tried to track me, I hurtle hoes
Shells like a turtle, it's screaming out murder
The wound that it's leaving ain't surgical
Make sure you get him, go murder fools
They fuck with your bread, then give 'em toast
Make sure it's personal, then it's priciple
That type of shit will hurt the soul
If you don't got it then chase a bag
**** gon' look at you, never lack
Fiend wanted change, sell 'em crack
If you rob a chain, don't give it back
Don't let 'em look at you yelling, "Slat!"
Talking 'bout gang and this and that
All of that's chitter chat when you get into beef
You gonna be asking where killers at
[Verse 3]
You ain't gotta listen
Still I'ma tell you
Lil' story 'bout my life
I was born in the kitchen
I ain't being sarcastic
Literally with the mice
Momma said I don't listen
Said I was a lil' tyke
Runnin' 'round stealing people's bikes
Then I started shooting dice
Started selling white
Then I started shooting straps
So knew I was a tyke
[Verse 4]
You ain't gotta listen
Still I'ma tell you
Lil' story 'bout my life
I was born in the kitchen
I ain't being sarcastic
Literally with the mice
Momma said I don't listen
Said I was a lil' tyke
Runnin' 'round stealing people's bikes
Then I started shooting dice
Started selling white
Then I started shooting straps
So knew I was a tyke
[Verse 5]
And your momma ain't perfect
And your daddy, he worthless
Just know you're worth shit
You got a purpose
They gonna try you
Just do the same shit that I do
Keep these **** at a distance
Make sure you shoot with precision
[Verse 6]
And your momma ain't perfect
And your daddy, he worthless
Just know you're worth shit
You got a purpose
They gonna try you
Just do the same shit that I do
Keep these **** at a distance
Make sure you shoot with precision
[Verse 7]
You ain't gotta listen
Still I'ma tell you
Lil' story 'bout my life
I was born in the kitchen
I ain't being sarcastic
Literally with the mice
Momma said I don't listen
Said I was a lil' tyke
Runnin' 'round stealing people's bikes
Then I started shooting dice
Started selling white
Then I started shooting straps
So knew I was a tyke
Written by: Tyrone Noel Smith
