Jordan D. Mitchell - NIGGATALK

Welcome to Niggaland
6ft under the ground, I pronounce you dead
Where two bad bitches lay next to you as you eternally rest
Where god might forgive you but the living won't forget
Another nigga died, homicide framed as suicide
A cat got nine lives, boy your pushing your time
I hear niggas talk, but they don't niggatalk
It's just misogyny and grape swishers when we money walk

Riding in the hood I keep the chopper on me often
My mama said you crazy when I had her pick the coffin
My ex bitch do not phase me, all we ever had was problems
Bianca fucking hates me, that a hate I can acknowledge
I got so many bad bitches hope they down to ride
We pull up to his crib made his momma watch his bitch ass die
I never touched my bullets got the bandanas doings that
We empty out the clip like we back in Iraq
At the corner store getting faded with my niggas
My bitch so damn angry everyday I say I'll leave her
Do you want a 40s, with some bitches that stay horny
We know these hoes adore me, I leave early in the morning

I'm posted on the block, black hoodie blue watch
She said she tired of me, oh I hate nigga talk
Bitch you ain't paying bills, shut the fuck up on god
Made sure that we eat, bread is all niggas talk

Riding in the hood I keep the paranoia daily
I don't trust my bitch she acting hella shady lately
I pull up late at night caught her fucking on my homie
Shot him in the chest, made him bleed till it got holy
She screams I fucking hate you and I yelled bitch I hate you too
I gave the bitch my gun and said the fuck you bouta do?
I should put you on the blade, cuz you got hate but will not shoot
Now she on Wilson way sucking dick for some loot
At the corner store lighting candles on the block
He died that same night, heard his girl smoking rock
We pour out our 40s before we take a sip
I got love for the hoes, pushas, playas and pimps (Isaiah)

I'm posted on the block, black hoodie blue watch
She said she tired of me, oh I hate nigga talk
Bitch you ain't paying bills, shut the fuck up on god
Made sure that we eat, bread is all niggas talk

I'm writing this fucking song, but know the story continues
Dead bodies on block and dead homies won't miss you
I watched the world end live streaming apocalypse
But nothing even matters when death is so confident
I left the hood, misunderstood because I wanted some freedom
There's no freedom in the streets, where your own can kill ya
Skinfolk ain't kinfolk, black folk kill black folk
Live fast but die slow, live fast now die hoe

Welcome to Niggaland
6ft under the ground, I pronounce you dead

Written by:
Jordan Mitchell

Publisher:
Lyrics © O/B/O DistroKid

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