What It Was by EJ Carter Lyrics
[Verse 1] [Miss Alley Cat]
Old soul, new gold, same pain
I need a big game, Tatum dunking on James
Don’t you ask me why I’ve changed
Me and mines gon’ make it rain
‘Cause we spray it we don’t say it
It ain’t shit left to explain
I don’t understand these bitches
All they talk about is brain but got no brains
Talking tough but got no hands, talking guns but got no aim
Hoe you faking, I’m just facing good Propane
Growing weed up, no Romaine
Still Redshirted, I don’t play, make my day
Bitch I stay strapped, I’ma state facts (m-m-m-mac)
In a Maybach, leanin’ way back
Understand that I ain’t twerkin’ when I make my egg clap
While these bitches flip them inches
Hoe I’m bringing fades back
Take that, there will never be another one of me
Wanna witness?
Come and see, but I don’t need your company
Cause all my life these fuckers told me what I was never gonna be
I’m here now
So it’s clear now that you shouldn’t fuck with me, uh
[Hook] [EJ Carter]
I'm feelin like 50 my hittas is with me
They say they gon’ get me I told ‘em to come
We blowin’ that sticky them niggas is iffy
They see we get busy ‘cause we from the slums
We gon’ pull up and hop out wit the glizzy
And first you get dizzy and then you see blood
Don’t get to fakin’ you knew what it was
(Don’t get to fakin’ you knew what it was)
Trigger fingers achin’
I’m sweatin’ and shakin’
Left hand on the Bible
The right on the gun
You thought I was playin’
Nah nigga we ain't playin’
You fuckin’ with us and you done
I ain't your homie
I ain't your fam
Don’t call me blood and don’t call me cuz
Don’t get to fakin’ you knew what it was
(Don’t get to fakin’ you knew what it was)
[Verse 2] [EJ Carter]
Stick in the back of a foreign
Take that however you want
Rockin’ New Balance while touring
And killin’ whatever you flaunt
Balled overseas
I was scoring getting buckets on buckets on bucks
Fool, this ain't how I grew up
No silver spoon, that ain't what it was
Here’s a salute to the old me
The going to sleep in the cold me
My idol was Kobe
But the kids picking teams up never chose me
Seen the pigs take my OG
Fifteen had to man up
No one left home to coach me
So I made these niggas put they hands up
Got my bands up
Father forgive us we got shooters, we got hittas
We got
The coldest winters
We got
The souls of sinners
We not
Supposed to win here
You don't know unless you been here
Made it out just by my chin hair
Saint Louis but it ain't no friends here
Let me give you a glimpse here
You pull up to my crib
You’re dead meat, prime rib
Hand the gun off to my bitch
And she cooking you up to a fine crisp
Don't be confused by the kindness
I got a Glock nine and a tight grip
It’s a thin line and when you slice it
It's still Pi shit, you gon’ die quick
[Hook] [EJ Carter]
I'm feelin like 50 my hittas is with me
They say they gon’ get me I told ‘em to come
We blowin’ that sticky them niggas is iffy
They see we get busy ‘cause we from the slums
We gon’ pull up and hop out wit the glizzy
And first you get dizzy and then you see blood
Don’t get to fakin’ you knew what it was
(Don’t get to fakin’ you knew what it was)
Trigger fingers achin’
I’m sweatin’ and shakin’
Left hand on the Bible
The right on the gun
You thought I was playin’
Nah nigga we ain't playin’
You fuckin’ with us and you done
I ain't your homie
I ain't your fam
Don’t call me blood and don’t call me cuz
Don’t get to fakin’ you knew what it was
(Don’t get to fakin’ you knew what it was)
[Outro] [Bonez Jaxson]
Yeah
Yo what up
It’s your boy Bonez Jaxson, the 8 - 6 misfit
Coming live and direct
It’s graphic and realistic, don’t get it twisted
I’m down with the Redshirt Freshmen
Miss Alley Cat and EJ Carter
The Pi God himself
Left hand on the bible, right hand on a rifle
What you know ‘bout the 314?
We shall see
What it is, what it was and what it shall be
And I guarantee
We gon’ bomb first
Don’t fuck with the camp or you end up in a hearse
Yeah boy, 8 - 6, ahh
Old soul, new gold, same pain
I need a big game, Tatum dunking on James
Don’t you ask me why I’ve changed
Me and mines gon’ make it rain
‘Cause we spray it we don’t say it
It ain’t shit left to explain
I don’t understand these bitches
All they talk about is brain but got no brains
Talking tough but got no hands, talking guns but got no aim
Hoe you faking, I’m just facing good Propane
Growing weed up, no Romaine
Still Redshirted, I don’t play, make my day
Bitch I stay strapped, I’ma state facts (m-m-m-mac)
In a Maybach, leanin’ way back
Understand that I ain’t twerkin’ when I make my egg clap
While these bitches flip them inches
Hoe I’m bringing fades back
Take that, there will never be another one of me
Wanna witness?
Come and see, but I don’t need your company
Cause all my life these fuckers told me what I was never gonna be
I’m here now
So it’s clear now that you shouldn’t fuck with me, uh
[Hook] [EJ Carter]
I'm feelin like 50 my hittas is with me
They say they gon’ get me I told ‘em to come
We blowin’ that sticky them niggas is iffy
They see we get busy ‘cause we from the slums
We gon’ pull up and hop out wit the glizzy
And first you get dizzy and then you see blood
Don’t get to fakin’ you knew what it was
(Don’t get to fakin’ you knew what it was)
Trigger fingers achin’
I’m sweatin’ and shakin’
Left hand on the Bible
The right on the gun
You thought I was playin’
Nah nigga we ain't playin’
You fuckin’ with us and you done
I ain't your homie
I ain't your fam
Don’t call me blood and don’t call me cuz
Don’t get to fakin’ you knew what it was
(Don’t get to fakin’ you knew what it was)
[Verse 2] [EJ Carter]
Stick in the back of a foreign
Take that however you want
Rockin’ New Balance while touring
And killin’ whatever you flaunt
Balled overseas
I was scoring getting buckets on buckets on bucks
Fool, this ain't how I grew up
No silver spoon, that ain't what it was
Here’s a salute to the old me
The going to sleep in the cold me
My idol was Kobe
But the kids picking teams up never chose me
Seen the pigs take my OG
Fifteen had to man up
No one left home to coach me
So I made these niggas put they hands up
Got my bands up
Father forgive us we got shooters, we got hittas
We got
The coldest winters
We got
The souls of sinners
We not
Supposed to win here
You don't know unless you been here
Made it out just by my chin hair
Saint Louis but it ain't no friends here
Let me give you a glimpse here
You pull up to my crib
You’re dead meat, prime rib
Hand the gun off to my bitch
And she cooking you up to a fine crisp
Don't be confused by the kindness
I got a Glock nine and a tight grip
It’s a thin line and when you slice it
It's still Pi shit, you gon’ die quick
[Hook] [EJ Carter]
I'm feelin like 50 my hittas is with me
They say they gon’ get me I told ‘em to come
We blowin’ that sticky them niggas is iffy
They see we get busy ‘cause we from the slums
We gon’ pull up and hop out wit the glizzy
And first you get dizzy and then you see blood
Don’t get to fakin’ you knew what it was
(Don’t get to fakin’ you knew what it was)
Trigger fingers achin’
I’m sweatin’ and shakin’
Left hand on the Bible
The right on the gun
You thought I was playin’
Nah nigga we ain't playin’
You fuckin’ with us and you done
I ain't your homie
I ain't your fam
Don’t call me blood and don’t call me cuz
Don’t get to fakin’ you knew what it was
(Don’t get to fakin’ you knew what it was)
[Outro] [Bonez Jaxson]
Yeah
Yo what up
It’s your boy Bonez Jaxson, the 8 - 6 misfit
Coming live and direct
It’s graphic and realistic, don’t get it twisted
I’m down with the Redshirt Freshmen
Miss Alley Cat and EJ Carter
The Pi God himself
Left hand on the bible, right hand on a rifle
What you know ‘bout the 314?
We shall see
What it is, what it was and what it shall be
And I guarantee
We gon’ bomb first
Don’t fuck with the camp or you end up in a hearse
Yeah boy, 8 - 6, ahh