Lyrics In the Streets - Mister D , Big Al , trouble p

Why you in the streets, you should be home with me
In between the sheets, you should be home with me
I wanna love you boy, come home and love me boy
I wanna love you boy, come home and love me boy

Gotta get mine, married to the game
Girl, money makin' is my mind frame
Don't hold me back, gotta sling the sack
Back on the streets, watchin' my money stack
Making cash forever, twenty-four on the grind
Freedom on the line, in the back of my mind
But what the fuck am I supposed to do?
Who's gonna pay these bills, baby not you
So stop trippin', if I have to take a trip
Believe me it's on, that money makin' tip
But before I reach you, gotta use the pay phone
Got one more drop before ese make it home

Forgive me for my gangsta ways, I'm tryna get paid
Coke way, and the way I'm raised
Dope game, tryna make my way
Tryna lock a homie down, but I'm out here grindin' every day
Hustlin' night and day
She blowin' up my phone, cause she want me to fuckin' stay
Long nights in this fuckin' game
In the streets makin' moves, better recognize my fuckin' name
It's Trouble P, motherfuckin' dope man
Thirteen years old, had the dope slang
In the city of the fuckin' P
She in love with a G, but I'm all about my money

In these violent streets, roll with some real G's
I'm on the block, ready to ride on my enemies
Baby girl you gotta understand, I'm addicted to this life
Twenty-four seven, out to get mine
Stick by my side, you might become my wife
The reason why you ride for me, because I keep it gangsta
I've been in the hood, out hustlin' since a youngsta
I know you want me home with you
But give me some time, I'll be back soon
Baby I want it all, I promise you the moon
So let me hustle all night, grindin' hard in these streets
Me and you, like the Isley Brothers, in between the sheets

I'm out here, on these stone cold streets
Fuck these snitches, and crooked police
I'm avoiding them, baby at all cost
Feds on my back, cause I'm a motherfuckin' boss
Fuck barely gettin' by, got paper on my mind
Since a youngsta, I've been on the grind
Twenty-four seven, this game don't stop
Won't be satisfied, 'til a ese hit the top
Valle Balla, started at the bottom
Hustlin' four seasons, from spring to autumn
Gettin' my ends up, before I get home
Every play I run, I'm tryna hit the end zone