Street Military - Never Leave the Pad lyrics

[Verse 1: ?] Down in Houston, we ain't scared of no f**in' police I dropped my 40 cause my hands full of chicken grease I'm talking sh** cause I cracked my [?] up (Beuu!) Aw, sh**, there go the motherf**in' Oilers I turn in Texaco faking like I want some gas They pa** by faking like they don't see my a** Aw sh**, B, I'ma start chillin'-the Rest of the night, Flea, pa** me my cylinder [Five per square?] because I'm rolling six deep Two n******gs high, two n******gs drunk, and one asleep Rolled down the window let the breeze come in slow The car scrapes the ground cause it's packed full of n******gs, ho Here come the laws, I'm in sh** now Everybody sitting up straight, looking real tall And if they stop us my name is Bobby Joe Snicket Why, cause I didn't pay my motherf**ing tickets Here comes the laws, hold your 40, don't go spilling it I was sitting low, just [?] k**ing it The laws tried stopping us, buckshots popping 'em Fire up another joint, hit them with these hollow points Make sure they feel the heat, turn them into bloody meat I ran my car in a telephone poll and rolled down these dark-a** streets Took off my hat and shirt, took off my watch and ring So I wouldn't get whooped and left bloody like Rodney King Left my [shoe?] in a bayou and my heat in a dog house Drunk some water out of his pot, suffering from cotton mouth Here comes a chopper, you think that I give a f**? All I hear is the propellers (ft-ft-ft-ft) s**ing wind up [Hook] ("Boy you shoulda known by now Never leave the pad without packing a gun") [Verse 2: ?] [HPDA6?] Never giving rest to my motherf**ing dick [?] my chest Cause I wanna have [?] when I take my last breath Five years deep into the game I am So pound me if you wanna score [?] 28 inch rims [?] [?] me p**y, money, cars, and gold chains [?] Smoking that motherf**ing weed and drinking brew Staying f**ed up when there ain't nothing to do [?] on Rolex and get your a** paid [?] f** around and see a grave Take it from a n***a that take it from the streets [?] and pack a gun, fool [Hook] ("Boy you shoulda known by now Never leave the pad without packing a gun") ("Because you might get shot") [Verse 3: Lil' Flea] I'm in the crib with a spliff and my feet on the couch, G Cop is at the door with a warrant for Lil' Flea Broke out the back cause they trying to cage me Better bring my 9 cause they might wanna [?] me Hear come the pig with a pistol and blue suit Call them Houston Oilers cause they like to play run and shoot Make sure my Nikes are tight, ready to bust a right No love for a copper's life, and make the pig pay the price Now he's running at me trying to empty his clip Dropped him cause I popped him with a slug in his hip Caught my shoelace on a gate trying to hit the [?] Entrance to the chest, leaving [all us to ride the dish?] And take him out on a stretcher Tell him either freeze b**h please Flea or holler at [?] [?] watch me run But I'm never slipping motherf**er cause I'm packing my motherf**ing gun [Hook] ("Boy you shoulda known by now Never leave the pad without packing a gun") [Verse 4: ?] I don't give a f** about a cop Hey b**h don't even stop, unless you want that wig into a dreadlock Pack my sh** cause I ain'ts to be caught slippin' Waiting for a n***a to scratch when he thinks I'm itchin' So I can drill a f**ing hole in his chest He thinks I'm weak and all that, he's about to f** up and meet his d**h So many n******gs get took like a b**h Don't want to pack they sh**, now they floating in they own piss Cops are in this war, but they ain't losin' [?] and never get caught in prosecution In the ghetto, I'm known to pack my heat And find a n***a buried [?] the concrete A drug deal gone left When they digged him out the scene he had three slugs in his f**in' chest That'll let you know from [?] son Never leave your pad without packing your motherf**ing gun [Hook] ("Boy you shoulda known by now Never leave the pad without packing a gun")