Retch Bad Luck Lyrics

[Production by Thelonious Martin]

(Intro)
Take your f*cking shoes off if they got mud on 'em nigga (Yo fresh make sure you get that shit about the shoes my nigga)

[Verse 1 ]
Yo, It's like the world kept spinning and bitch niggas died
The Moon was full, the mood was kinda odd
I put the car in drive, turn up the light, then I spark the lye
Sport the garments that was hard to find
'Lo sport when I'm stepping out the soirée
In and out, no time to parley, right out the doorway
Seeing no need to be seen, collect and disappear
Bread, slide out the back like I was never there
Irish goodbyes, no daps for my departure
Another drug dealer turned author
Still sell work out the barber
I figure stop, why bother?
Rather toss Fifties and grams to my little mans
Hit my Patterson niggas off with a brick of tan
Niggas still hustle for so and so
I had some coke, you had to cut or you would overdose
I think I might of killed a fiend when I was sixteen
But thats another story, honey bourbon roll a 40
I be higher than giraffe p*ssy
Had to let off broad day at the last p*ssy

[Hook]
Nigga this that murder that you ride to
Pockets full of cracks, with your burner right beside you
If a nigga act up, oh well, bad luck
Hit him in the head, leave that p*ssy nigga dead
Or they'll do that shit to you, you gotta learn lil nigga
Cause the bullets really hurt and they burn lil nigga So keep that shit in mind before they leave it on the floor
I had your moms at the church crying, screaming at the lord

[Verse 2]
Niggas still talking fights like it's tenth grade
You can catch this hot lead before you catch fades
But don't get it f*cked up, I knocked some niggas out
Run and front a nigga moms in front a nigga house
Nigga I been with the shits since like potty training
I sold crack before weed and that's a honest statement
I was smoking sour in the county jail
Microwave burnt some bread just to hide the smell
Illest young nigga under twenty-three
By twelfth grade, nigga moved about twenty P's
Couples times I f*cked my money up and got it back
Sometimes I thank the lord for dope and that's a honest fact
This for my nigga bracking cards, balling, popping tags
For all my niggas that burn their fingers on them plastic bags
f*ck all of you other niggas
Might get to jumping off the stage and get to jumping niggas

[Hook]
Nigga this that murder that you ride to
Pockets full of cracks, with your burner right beside you
If a nigga act up, oh well, bad luck
Hit him in the head, leave that p*ssy nigga dead
Or they'll do that shit to you, you gotta learn lil nigga
Cause the bullets really hurt and they burn lil nigga
So keep that shit in mind before they leave it on the floor
I had your moms at the church crying, screaming at the lord