B-Legit D-Boy Blues LyricsArtist: B-Legit
Publishers: ©Universal Music Publishing Group
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Album: Track 14 on The Hemp Museum
Aight, check game playboy
It's like this here
In this **********in' game mayne
**** ain't always gon' be gravy playboy, see
Thangs ain't always gon' go your way, y'knahmsayin?
You better take the bitter with the sweet
If you want to survive in these **********in' streets
But peep it doe
I got kind in my mackin', I started to stackin' in the Valle'
You see I sent that ***** named, Sally
To the track with a big fat sack of the crack
And told her don't come back, until she did that
Cause **** was gettin' funky out in the Bay
You couldn't find a good plug, from here to L.A.
Cause *****z get sheisty and sell you bunk
And no scratch, but these gats, gon' equal funk
You can't be no punk, get slabbed in yo' truck
And roll around town with the beat on pump
Have yo' eardrums leakin' from the beatin' of the series 2's
*****... I got the D-Boy Blues
[Chorus x2 B-Legit]
The blues *****, the blues hoe
I know some *****z in my crew, that done had 'em befo'
I got the blues *****, the blues hoe
("Stretched, I guess I got the D-Boy Blues")
My family get this call from this fool
Who said he knew this fool, said this fool was cool
Said that his daddy was a mason with a major supply
And I can get some thangs as long as I buy 5
I really wasn't trippin' cause I had the cash
But if it goes down funky I'ma smoke yo' ***
Hung up the phone and I was up, put the mill' on the tuck
The speaker-box in the Chevy truck
I'm at the spot a hundred G's, and my strap
I done beeped this fool twice and he ain't call back
Now where he at, schemin' on Legit the Savage
Wanna wrap me up and ride away with the cabbage
Everybody startin' to look like the FBI
I'm hella paranoid dude, but now I'm hella high
It ain't fly for this ***** from the H-I-double-L
With no **********in' dope to sell
I spend my last, ephedrine and some pirate's glass
I got my mask, whippin' up some dope fast
Or a little mag 57 is a rag
Hydronic ash **** is known to keep the fiends blastin'
Mix together, cook it up on a Bronson burner
Cause that fire have you higher than that Ike Turner
Hours later, it's lookin' good for this player
Oil formed and I just got my third layer
And if it's cool, yo' ***** yellin' **** the collar
Fo' times my mail, with the sales an hour
Jackin' off my cash, buyin' up hella toys
And all I'm ****in' with is rich-*** white boys
Took him out the glass but he lookin' dirty white
Washed him off with the acetone to get him right
Who got a light, and when yo' ***** lit the flame
He'll bam-boof with the roof, and e'rythang
Am I to blame, fo' *****z havin' bad luck?
Too much dirt, is that stoppin' me from comin' up?
Well I don't know, but I'm po' and I need a few
Got yo' boy stressed out, I got the D-Boy Blues
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