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Tilhas - Wild.

Wild.
Tilhas
03:33
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  • Tilhas
  • MP3 320Kbps
  • 8.13 Mb
  • 03:33

Song lyrics

[Chorus: T.I.]
Smokin weed, ridin chrome,
Only thing I've ever known,
Is walk on the wildside,
Welcome to our lives.
Slangin keys, sprayin K's,
Every day we gettin paid
To walk on the wildside,
Welcome to our lives.

[Verse 1: T.I]
Come take a little walk with me through my neighborhood,
And come spend a day in my trap,
Get your paper right and that yay some good,
But just keep a tool in your lap.
My lil patna holdin that work,
Nigga, won't wait, we keep around back.
Better not violate on my turf,
Nigga you's in danger to die like that.
Ain't no investigation, no statements,
And no witnesses, we ain't seen shit,
Pull up after dawg with that jewelry on,
To come see a bitch, that way he get it,
We on dark road with no street lights,
That pistol play after fist fights,
And them geek monsters walk all night,
With they crack pipes tryna get right.
Midnight we shoot dice,
The whole house smellin like cooked crack,
You beat me, and you talk shit,
You get shot, bitch, and I took that.
Hoodrats on deck, that loud is all I blow,
This shit to you might sound wild,
But this life is all I know.

[Chorus]

[Verse 2: T.I]
Can you picture me back in '93,
Bumpin Dr. Dre while I hit some weed,
Cut school, made ten G,
Thirteen, tryin to get keys,
At fifteen, I was full-grown,
Get wrong, get bust on,
My uncle gave me a bunch of work,
And that shit was gone by the next mornin'.
Young wild nigga runnin with me,
Homicide wasn't nothin to us,
Dead body wasn't nothin to see,
That pistol play was just fun to us.
I was nineteen with two felonies,
One of my best friend had a life sentence,
How my uncle Fred was just like me,
And had a bunch of partners no longer livin.
All about that cocaine dealin,
No education, no pot to piss in,
Old school, on chrome wheel,
Window tinted, pistol hidden,
That's the shit that I come from,
In my heart fear ain't none,
Stand tall, I can't run from
That wildside that I walk on.

[Chorus]

[Verse 3: ASAP Rocky]
All I ever did was pit on,
All my old friends tryna get on,
Shorty fell out, makin' diss songs,
Never talk down when I get home.
Ain't the type of nigga you can shit on,
Hundred spokes, brick, chrome,
God body, big bone,
That's hard body, Jim Jones.
Niggas know the sound of how we switch on him,
Finna wild out on a TIP song,
Better make a toast, nigga, TIP home,
First get the bread, then get goin'.
From the land of the lead where they spit chrome,
Where most kids never get to live long,
Get their pistols, get pissed on,
Pistolwhipped and stripped, homie.
Left for a minute and they switched on me,
Caught them talkin' down, tryna bitch on me,
And they snitch on me, ain't got shit on me,
So my guess is death is what they wish on me.
So I'm blowin' on them candles,
Closed lids and dark eyes,
‘Cause hate's never part time when you on that wildside.

[Chorus]

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