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Inara George

Genres: Pop

Trouble Lyrics - Inara George

[Unknown Girl] 

Cities, streets, that's where I learned 

Play with fire, you'll get burned 

When the heat was on, I turned 

Turned to trouble... trouble 

 

[Lil Wayne] 

Yeah, yeah, C three, yeah 

New Orleans baby, a street called Eagle 

And everybody's ill, yeah, illegal 

People steal cars, we steal people 

We eat like dogs, but we still people 

And even when ya lost, trouble still see you 

And even if ya dead broke, we are still equal 

One time for the lil people 

Eat ya meal, don't let ya meal eat you 

(I run with trouble... trouble) 

Street runner we crazy with dis one 

I run... with... trouble 

 

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[Lil Wayne] 

And just the other day, my nigga Chris killed his self 

I pray to God, that I never feel the way he felt 

Where do we go when there's no help? 

He figured Heaven, so he went left 

Ya'll know that ain't right 

Plus, he was high as a plane that same night 

Shit, I probably been on that same flight 

Shit, I probably had that same fight 

I just kept swingin 

Twelve rounds comin, bells ringin 

(I run with trouble... trouble) 

Introduced to the game, when I was just a child 

Mama love a drug dealer, straight quit her job 

And took his life, and along with him, I died 

And she died, we died 

Then came my daughter, to my bed side 

Told me daddy, don't cry, I'm alive 

I look her in the eyes, and see me with no sins 

But this is how the note ends 

 

Photos 

 

[Lil Wayne] 

Ya know, let's kick it back 

I can't call it 

(I run with trouble... trouble) 

Ya know, heheh 

Yeah, yeah 

 

[Lil Wayne] 

The tool, it poke out the jeans 

The coke smell just like a bunch of coffee beans 

Ya nah mean? and everything ain't what it seem 

Ya nah mean? and don't play that game, without your team 

Kill for my bread, kill for my G's, kill for my cream 

I will have that red beam on hot beam 

Now I hear sirens, wait I think I see one behind me 

I ain't trippin baby, money got me 

Unh 

(I run with trouble... trouble) 

And fuck the police, fuck the feds, too 

I ain't jumpin in that jump suit 

A one, I'm on my one, two 

Check me out, I fuck around and check you 

Respect due, pay yours nigga 

Mines under the seat, by my feet, where's yours nigga? 

Too much hoarse liquor, huh? 

Too much pressure, too much force 

Too much money, never heard that before 

Shit 

And we stop the snitches at the door 

Cut that tail off the rat, he won't rat no more 

(I run with trouble... trouble) 

Shit, that's right, get trapped fuck with my G's 

Keep shootin, 'til I burn my sleeves 

Nigga please, these boys is G's 

Represent New Orleans, like a Florida leaf 

Shit, what you know about it, we more than thieves 

We steal from the rich, so the poor can eat 

Yeah, niggas act up, my niggas act accordingly 

Hey soldier, don't war with me 

Jump on it 

Writer: , ,

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