Field Mob Project Dreams Lyrics

(Boondox) 
Rent thirty days late, gotta be gone by Saturday 
Tired of sellin' cocaine, folks tryna' trap me 
Every night dreamin bout livin life lavish 
A watch full of karats, a candy coated Caddy 
Off the show flo', sittin on fo' Vouges 
Oak wood gear shift, ??? dash door 
Choppin on seventeen inch Enki's 
Bling bling from my mouth to my pinky 
Enough about my jewelry, grill, and my Fleetwood 
Tryna still live stable so my folks can eat good 
House sittin out on the hill to sleep good 
Livin peaceful, just like we should 
Money legal, no more sellin reefer 
No more FEDs tryna' stick me like a needle 
When it's cold outdo' come in I heat ya 
He ain't gotta walk in the sun, I A.C. ya 
Bump worryin 'bout that burgular comin to creep ya 
Get trapped by alarms and the millimeter 
I'm a do or die playa for my people, follow the leader 
I'm my brotha's keeper, for real 

(Chorus-both) 
I'm a have me a big nice Caddy 
House on the hill for my ma' and my pappy 
Live life happy and I'm still nappy 
Makin legal money, no FEDs tryna' trap me 
I'm a have me a big nice Caddy 
House on the hill for my ma' and my pappy 
Live life happy and I'm still nappy
Nigga, legal money, no FEDs tryna' trap me 
If you ever been broke put your hands up 
You been broke put your hands up, put your hands up 
If you ever been broke put your hands up 
You been broke put your hands up, put 'em up 

(Kalage) 
What ya know 'bout havin no dough, no coat for the winter 
Remember, we poor folk 
Most cut yolk and smoke coke, cut throats in ya dope, hoe 
Talk about they wanna 'Lac with four do's, no Vogues 
Wood kit and Momo's 
I gets Polo, pockets so swol', Jenny Craig 
Naw, Escalade hog, in the yard 
Breakin all ya folks too, belly full a soul food 
Chittlens, greens, pork chops, green beens 
Yeah I pray for that, each and every day I rap 
I rap with guard, 'cause I feel you ain't really safe with gats 
We escape slacks, the government help and welfare 
My folk cries to the Lord, ain't no help there 
We ain't have much, or less to brag about, but mo' to lose 
I ran the street, mama told me go to school 
But now I got a chance to change things and maintain 
Mo' so, I ain't gotta slang 'caine anymore 
Hell yeah boy, you really understand dirt 
Well I'm a rap if you gon' clap until your hands hurt 
I ain't the only person feel like I feel, that there live like I live 
And wanna chill, for real 

(Chorus) 

(Boondox) Now put your hands up if you're broke, folks tried 
          to spoil ya 
          With fried bologna sandwiches and sugar water 
(Kalage) Put ya hands up, if you feel my hurt 
         Have you ever bathed with soap the size of a Cert 
(B) Don't disguise the dirt did 'cause we all know rocks 
    It's the real reason furniture go to the pawn shop 
(K) 'Cause ya crackhead cuz smokin the car antennas 
(B) Understand see... 
(K) It's a junkie in every family 
(B) Them my hand-me-down, tight pants, lookin slim in 'em 
    If they too big... 
(K) What you do? 
(B) Put a hem in 'em 
(K) 'Member talkin over the loud sounds when the wind blow 
    'Cause the trash bag's replacin yo' car window 
(B) Man, I been poor 
(K) I been poor 
(Both) Man, we been poor! 
       That's how it is in the Field, for real 

(Chorus) 2x