Scarface - Dying With Your Boots On
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SCARFACE


Dying With Your Boots On Lyrics

Trouble seems to catch a motherf**ker with his cards down
Gotta keep my drawers up, shit's gettin' hard now
These motherf**kin' cops be plantin' shit on these niggas
Simply because these niggas got bank accounts that's bigger

I just can't get no peace from you motherf**kin' rollers
Every time I pull my Benz-o out, you pull me over
I'm sick of motherf**kers who be jocking Whitey's coattails
Blacker than a motherf**ker, sweat me 'bout my dope-sales

Niggas just take your cut and get your ass up out my face
The only thing you probably get from me is a cock-suckin' pistol case
Unless you plan on plantin' a lil' somethin' in my shit
Just because you ain't got shit, bitch

Give 'em a badge and a trigger and that makes 'em figure
That they can f**k with a million dollar nigga
They got you mixed up, fixed up at the Segas, shookin' Indo
Gettin' f**ked up in the gank-hole

The only way you'll whip that motherf**ker
Is when you whip that motherf**ker
And we choke the motherf**ker
(Man, f**k that motherf**ker)

So when you hear my song and wanna get it on
You better come prepared motherf**ker
You dyin' wit'cha boots on

(Put ya foot in my shoe, and let me try on your boots)
Dyin' wit'cha boots on
(Put ya foot in my shoe, and let me try on your boots)
Yeah

Do you know how many years you're facing inside?
25 to life and that's on the real
So you better snitch on your partner
f**k that, it was Brad Dawg, I ain't goin' out by myself

Niggas gettin' caught, doin' time, so they snitchin'
They pickin' niggas up on a funky ass suspicion
We'll be goin' down for some questioning we think
And end up gettin' hit with the f**kin' kitchen sink

Racketeer and laundering, Kingpin wondering
If they got some unsolved murders, then give him some of them
Just because we're niggas and they figure we're no smarter
We'll sell each other out and start rattin' on our partners

They start bringin' up shit that happened back in '85
And then comes the largest jury, bitch, they f**kin' time
You might as well play the state 'cause you gon' do day for day
And sellin' out your homeboys ain't the shit

'Cause y'all gonna have to die in this bitch, bitch
Lobbin' wit'cha white suits on
And dyin' wit'cha motherf**kin' boots on

(Put ya foot in my shoe, and let me try on your boots)

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Songwriter(s): Joseph Johnson, Brad Jordan
Copyright: N-the-water Publishing Inc., Straight Cash Music
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