Losing Composure

Trae

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    [Hook]
    I just can't take, this shit no more
    I feel I'm losing my mind, but still I can't let go
    The pain inside of my chest, about to make me blow
    So run inside of my range, and I'll be forced to let go

    [Trae]
    I can't take it, I feel I'm losing composure
    My attitude done got me clicking, but fuck it cause I'm a soldier
    Lately I've been on that other shit, like a mad dude
    Stressing over my brother, living in penitentiary blues
    Never shed both tears, but I'm keeping a clip for them haters
    With any reason opening fire, on a bitch made traitor
    I've been falling off in my zone lately, and if one of these nigga
    Run up on me, then I'm letting em have it baby
    And it ain't no if and maybe's, so shady with the way they living
    If willing I'm drilling, dealing with bitches that got me sinning
    I'm trying to cope, but I feel like they really wanna bring it out me
    When how many niggas out here, say they down and I know they doubt me
    It's fucked up, but I'ma pull a maneuver
    Bobbing and weaving, and run it to you
    Hard times, got me mentally ready to bring it to you
    Cause I'm young black and broke, with hopes of getting paid
    You better disperse, cause I feel like I wanna spray bitch

    [Hook]

    [Z-Ro]
    You can't assassinate my character, whispering words of war
    But I'm fed up with you son of a bitches, you've gone too far
    Making a mockery out of my name, ain't cool
    So I'm straight to the horse's mouth, me and my motherfucking tool
    I love nothing and slug something, every twenty minutes
    Fuck with me and the murder scene, just can't be prevented
    I'm hell bound, will I be punished for thinking this way
    A problem child of reason, I'm smoking and drinking today
    Jokes of Douglas and Fraiser, we the niggas who made you
    Fuck us over, and can't nobody save you
    I'm the truth, mark ass niggas get a loosing in they tooth
    Get murdered in the streets, the way to get murdered in the booth
    I'll ride for my niggas, and I'll die for my niggas
    It ain't shit to let my 45, fly for my niggas
    Take a ride for my niggas, to the swamps and back
    So bear a witness, to the motherfucking pumps I pack bitch

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    [Yukmouth]
    I can't stand the pain, I can't stand the rain
    Taking penitentiary chances, moving grams of caine
    I snatch your chain, run in your house and grab them thangs
    Hit the block like Ro and Trae, with them slabs of bang
    Stay on the grind, twenty-fo' sev'
    Don't make me turn this 211, to a 1-8-7 one in your head
    Street sweeper, 2-2-3's to capitate your legs
    Break your legs, like Kujo to shake the FED's
    I break bread with my goons, cause the streets gotta eat
    And if it ain't no food on the streets, a dog show his teeth
    I'm a beast, fuck a freak go to sleep with my heat
    Creep stay on my feet, ain't no mercy for the weak
    Fuck you geeks, I'm trying to stress this dope like yeast
    Fuck the police, I go to court smoking a sweet
    Talk shit, like 50 Cent I'll put a hole in your cheek
    I roll deep with the Guerilla Maab, I'm down for the beef nigga

    [Hook]

    [Trae]
    Deep inside, I see they got a nigga spitting these verses
    I got to get, but still it seem like I was blessed with the curses
    And deep inside, I know nobody give a fuck about me
    So stay the fuck from round me, cause bitch you tend to bring it out me
    I heard some niggas looking for me, on the other side
    And if they come, I bet they run into a homicide
    Sending them slugs, and they won't stop until they get inside
    Animosity in my chest, done got me spitting wide and I ain't lying

    [Z-Ro]
    Friends turn into foes, and foes turn into memories
    No mask when I ride, to make sure a nigga remember me
    My name bring pain, to the soul of a busta
    Cause it's more than a concussion, when I touch a motherfucker
    (forever Guerilla Maab), and it's gon be for life
    And it be retaliation, then it's gon be tonight
    I wish a nigga would, run up and be laying it down
    Locate his neighborhood, high ball and I'm spraying it down

    [Hook x2]

    Información de la canción

    Composición: J. Mark McVey

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