Paper Chasers Songtext
von Kevin Gates

I′ma let you hear that other one after I do this
I'ma let you hear the one you know the 6′s and all old shit
All that we don't fuck around shit
I like this shit man

Coke and rock and choppin' off ′em, private goin′ on shoppin' sprees
Glock in my back pocket, already cocked okay I′m clockin' cheese
Strap jump off the hinges in the trenches, all in alleyways
Had to say, each and every day we grabbin′ paper
Live the hustle, probably die, gangster and etcetera
Sometime I can't take no break, they keep callin′ my cellular
This the game and we know this life we gon' be alright
Ain't no sleep tonight, bitch we outchea chasin′ paper

Had to fall in with the Tech 9, no bandana, no gloves on
Long kiss goodnight, my nigga, but we ain′t makin' no love song
This bullshit you sold me got a Inisotol no soda on it
I straight dropped and lost 20 grams like what the fuck is you smokin′ homie
Red Camaro, white rally stripes, gon' probably be on TV
Move wrong while the tool long, I put your ass on Street Beat


Repeat, you see me, I′m a repeat offender
Park the whip, lay under houses, you move around with a stethoscope
Arrested for a little vestiges to teach these pussy niggas 'bout stretchin′ coke
Bend the barrel with a machine gun, like, "Say hello to my little friend"
Chick I met at Texaco, down here for school, not visitin'
Say it's about to get interestin′, bitch say she from Michigan

Coke and rock and choppin′ off 'em, private goin′ on shoppin' sprees
Glock in my back pocket, already cocked okay I′m clockin' cheese
Strap jump off the hinges in the trenches, all in alleyways
Had to say, each and every day we grabbin′ paper
Live the hustle, probably die, gangster and etcetera
Sometime I can't take no break, they keep callin' my cellular
This the game and we know this life we gon′ be alright
Ain′t no sleep tonight, bitch we outchea chasin' paper

Shipment just come in, drop work in Ponchatoula and Springfield
Extended clip on the nine milli′, a lot of hollow tips no refill
Imagine how the fuck we feel, in the winter time no heat here
I sleep here, all my smokers beg, bum, and borrow for free beer
And we feel, you need a nigga like me in your life
Grind time it's goin′ vroom
I listen to the radio, we on fly, shawty say she all mine
Color all in the wrong lines, to the dope game I got strong ties


I've sold cocaine, this all the time
Favorite old song, entitled "White Lines"
Watch rich people snort white lines, sip white wine at dinner parties
I been retarded, I leave a party
People start to leavin′ like we the party
Thuggin' on, don't mention it
Pockets full of Benjamins

Coke and rock and choppin′ off ′em, private goin' on shoppin′ sprees
Glock in my back pocket, already cocked okay I'm clockin′ cheese
Strap jump off the hinges in the trenches, all in alleyways
Had to say, each and every day we grabbin' paper
Live the hustle, probably die, gangster and etcetera
Sometime I can′t take no break, they keep callin' my cellular
This the game and we know this life we gon' be alright
Ain′t no sleep tonight, bitch we outchea chasin′ paper