Correction Lyrics Where You At by Mistah F.a.b.

Featuring(s) : The Jacka

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Lyrics

Uh, The Jacka
(I know you know, ayy)
Uh, Remy (J)
Love you, bruh, 'preciate this one
(I know they know what this is)
TT3, uh

She don't know me yet, but she love The Jack
Killers where we at, dealers where we at
You chillin' where we at, you know where you at
Killin' for our rep, you don't know us yet
She don't know me yet, but she love The Jack
Killers where we at, dealers where we at
You chillin' where we at, you know where you at
Killin' for our rep, you don't know us yet

[Mistah F.A.B.]
Uh, still in the trenches with the killers and the dealers
And the dopeboys post on the corner
And for a rock, man a knock, he'll give you his droptop
I rock it, that's a loner
Call them dope fiend rentals, knocked out like dope fiend dentals
If don't nobody know you on the spot then you ain't official
You can ask the OGs, you can ask the young G's
Everybody know me, ball like Kobe
Dirt by my lonely, need no codeine
Watched my daddy get high, damn near OD'd
He off that heron stick, I'm off that syrup and shit
I used to pour it, tap it, mix it and sip
Grab a Sprite, make sure you mix it right
Roll a little blunt of that Kryptonite
You know I'm on like shit tonight
Got Oops with me, so I ain't slippin', right
I miss The Jack, this a fact
Damn, wish I really could get him back
But it's shit like that that really hit like that
When you really dwellin' where them killers at
Where them niggas at, and them drillers at
And them flippers at, that be flippin' packs
Man, I grew up, yeah, with them powder heads
That be gettin' high and they be sniffin' sacks
They double up and then dippin' back
Got the hammer on him, he'll split his hat
Don't care how hard it get, real niggas know the script, don't never rat

[Mistah F.A.B.]
Hard to be humble in this jungle when these animals free
Where niggas don't move their lips and if it's beef, that cannon gon' speak
Tryna make an animal of me, but I got handles in these streets
A dog-eat-dog-eat world, that's why sometimes gotta Hannibal these G's
I shed tears for all my thugs that's no longer here and they're gone
If I could call Heaven, man, I swear I'd get The Jack on the phone
Put my mama on speaker, raised by the dope fiends and tweakers
I knew my nigga didn't wanna do it, but he needed them sneakers
Grew up in houses that was cold, stayin' quiet, that's the code
Where I'm from, some never grow, still on the corner at 40 years old
Dressin' like a young nigga, pants on sag
With a mouth full of rocks or a bundle in a bag
And the old nigga mad 'cause the lil' nigga savv'
So he try to steal his stash and he wanna stop his cash
Then the lil' nigga flash and he go and get his Gat
And the nigga told him, "Bruh, give that nigga a pass"
But the lil' nigga mad and he 'bout to go back
And he shot four shots to the OG's ass
And that's how it go where I'm from
But you wouldn't know where I'm from
If you don't come to the slums
Where they be killin' for crumbs

[Mistah F.A.B.]
And all he know is murder, all he know is kill
Raised around on fake shit, he don't even know what's real
Nah, he don't even know his dad, heard the nigga took a deal
15 locked down in the Pen, tryna wait for an appeal
My lil' nigga poppin' pills, all prescriptions, though
And when he pop a pill, he get to trippin', though
Put the Xan off in the bowl, get to flashin' on this four
Sippin' syrup and he sniffin' coke
Robbin' niggas, make 'em hit the floor
Off them Percocets, he become a threat
And now nobody trust him on the set
Stripped the dice game the other night
Took his chain right off his neck
But he on that bully shit, and young niggas ain't goin' for it, though
'Cause no bullies last where I'm from, cuz
Lil' nigga like he got us f*cked up, nigga, tough luck

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