Lyrics War Stories (feat. Calboy & Slatt Zy) - TM88 , Calboy , Slatt Zy

Look up to my fallen soldiers every morning
If you knew what I did in these streets you wouldn't adore me
Spend a hundred racks on Mike Amiri jeans, it don't get boring, aye
And I made it out them trenches, I got war stories, aye
We was just in the field like we playin' baseball, aye
On the block with a big Glock and an eight ball, aye
Mama mad, she just want me to get a day job
With a mask on and my hoodie up like Trayvon

In the tinted whip with a big Draco, an AR
I was poppin' a whole lotta Xanny pills for the anger
I know the opps was sendin' them shots, but nigga, your aim off, aye
They turned me to a lil' savage, nigga, I blame y'all (blame y'all)
You know I grip on this ratchet, tool can get flamed off (get flamed off)
All of my lil' niggas slide, and boy, you in danger (boy, you in danger)
She give me top while I'm driving, I'm in a ranger (I'm in a ranger)
Most of these bitches be actin', they showing fake love (fake love)
Shut up, nigga, listen, I paint vivid pictures, aye
Niggas looking at me different, I can feel attention, aye (feel attention)
We was like 15 totin' blicks and gettin' suspended
Way too focused on gettin' this money, bitch, I'm out here gettin' it (bitch, I'm out here)

Look up to my fallen soldiers every morning
If you knew what I did in these streets you wouldn't adore me
Spend a hundred racks on Mike Amiri jeans, it don't get boring, aye
And I made it out them trenches, I got war stories, aye
We was just in the field like we playin' baseball, aye
On the block with a big Glock and an eight ball, aye
Mama mad, she just want me to get a day job
With a mask on and my hoodie up like Trayvon

Stick on me, no eight ball
These fuck niggas, they play hard
Not a by-hitter had to work a day job
I don't see niggas like Ray Charles
I was, um, kicked out of school
Young nigga clutchin' on the tools
May have a clue to know what to do
Bitch, I go to school where my brothers shoot
When I'm 17 and I'm feeling used
Hurt my fucking heart, I put you on the news
Before I self-destruct, bitch, I'ma bust one of these tools
I been scarred my whole damn life, bitch, you can probably see the proof
Now I got back on my shit, I had a lot of shit to prove, yeah
Load up the clip, put one in the head, I had to show how we livin'
It ain't my fault, we from the hood so we was raised around killin'
My heart been broken for a minute, ain't no need for the healin'
Zeze, he really in these streets, he find this street shit appealing

Look up to my fallen soldiers every morning
If you knew what I did in these streets you wouldn't adore me
Spend a hundred racks on Mike Amiri jeans, it don't get boring, aye
And I made it out them trenches, I got war stories, aye
We was just in the field like we playin' baseball, aye
On the block with a big Glock and an eight ball, aye
Mama mad, she just want me to get a day job
With a mask on and my hoodie up like Trayvon