Little Feat - Trouble Lyrics

Lyrics Trouble - Little Feat



[Unknown Girl]
Cities, streets, that's where I learned
Play with fire, you'll get burned
When the heat was on, I turned
Turned to trouble... trouble
[Lil Wayne]
Yeah, yeah, C three, yeah
New Orleans baby, a street called Eagle
And everybody's ill, yeah, illegal
People steal cars, we steal people
We eat like dogs, but we still people
And even when ya lost, trouble still see you
And even if ya dead broke, we are still equal
One time for the lil people
Eat ya meal, don't let ya meal eat you
(I run with trouble... trouble)
Street runner we crazy with dis one
I run... with... trouble
[Lil Wayne]
And just the other day, my nigga Chris killed his self
I pray to God, that I never feel the way he felt
Where do we go when there's no help?
He figured Heaven, so he went left
Ya'll know that ain't right
Plus, he was high as a plane that same night
Shit, I probably been on that same flight
Shit, I probably had that same fight
I just kept swingin
Twelve rounds comin, bells ringin
(I run with trouble... trouble)
Introduced to the game, when I was just a child
Mama love a drug dealer, straight quit her job
And took his life, and along with him, I died
And she died, we died
Then came my daughter, to my bed side
Told me daddy, don't cry, I'm alive
I look her in the eyes, and see me with no sins
But this is how the note ends
[Lil Wayne]
Ya know, let's kick it back
I can't call it
(I run with trouble... trouble)
Ya know, heheh
Yeah, yeah
[Lil Wayne]
The tool, it poke out the jeans
The coke smell just like a bunch of coffee beans
Ya nah mean? and everything ain't what it seem
Ya nah mean? and don't play that game, without your team
Kill for my bread, kill for my G's, kill for my cream
I will have that red beam on hot beam
Now I hear sirens, wait I think I see one behind me
I ain't trippin baby, money got me
Unh
(I run with trouble... trouble)
And fuck the police, fuck the feds, too
I ain't jumpin in that jump suit
A one, I'm on my one, two
Check me out, I fuck around and check you
Respect due, pay yours nigga
Mines under the seat, by my feet, where's yours nigga?
Too much hoarse liquor, huh?
Too much pressure, too much force
Too much money, never heard that before
Shit
And we stop the snitches at the door
Cut that tail off the rat, he won't rat no more
(I run with trouble... trouble)
Shit, that's right, get trapped fuck with my G's
Keep shootin, 'til I burn my sleeves
Nigga please, these boys is G's
Represent New Orleans, like a Florida leaf
Shit, what you know about it, we more than thieves
We steal from the rich, so the poor can eat
Yeah, niggas act up, my niggas act accordingly
Hey soldier, don't war with me
Jump on it



Writer(s): George Lowell T


Little Feat - Original Album Series
Album Original Album Series
date of release
13-01-2012

1 Snakes On Everything
2 Strawberry Flats
3 Truck Stop Girl
4 Brides Of Jesus
5 Willin'
6 Hamburger Midnight
7 Forty-Four Blues / How Many More Years
8 Crack In Your Door
9 I've Been The One
10 Takin' My Time
11 Crazy Captain Gunboat Willie
12 Easy to Slip
13 Cold, Cold, Cold
14 Trouble
15 Tripe Face Boogie
16 Willin'
17 A Apolitical Blues
18 Sailin' Shoes
19 Teenage Nervous Breakdown
20 Got No Shadow
21 Cat Fever
22 Texas Rose Cafe
23 Dixie Chicken
24 Two Trains
25 Roll Um Easy
26 On Your Way Down
27 Kiss It Off
28 Fool Yourself
29 Walkin' All Night
30 Fat Man In The Bathtub
31 Juliette
32 Lafayette Railroad
33 Rock and Roll Doctor
34 Oh Atlanta
35 Skin It Back
36 Down the Road
37 Spanish Moon
38 Feats Don't Fail Me Now
39 The Fan
40 Medley: Cold Cold Cold/Tripe Face Boogie
41 Romance Dance
42 All That You Dream (With Linda Ronstadt)
43 Long Distance Love
44 Day Or Night
45 One Love Stand
46 Down Below The Borderline
47 Somebody's Leavin'
48 Mercenary Territory




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