Brother's Story (Dripped & Screwed) - Sauce Walka

What part of the game is this?

For real

Thought that we was taught that it was hoes down, bros up

So how when that ho set that hit down on bro, you froze up?

He put his life up in your hands and you dropped him, cold cup

He don’t even like to ride with you in that old truck

But he trust his brother

You had a lick for him off with Ella

From some bitch that you been fuckin' with named Janetta

Y’all on the Northside right now, this ain’t your type of weather

But your mind on you got this micro-pistol like whatever

Clever, what you thought you was

Lil' bro got them drugs

A fresh pack of blues in a jar, he tryna pop the club

But you was tryna hop a tub

Told him about your bitch and how she’ll buy all of his poppers up

Then call all her old partners up

The money good

All we gotta do is pull up and slide in the hood

Once we get in an apartment gate, it’s gon' be overstood

You’ll probably get you a new bitch, bro

Make you some money and hit you a lick, bro

For shit sure

And he agree

So they pulled in, but they ain’t look to the left up in the leaves

Janetta walk out and all you see is ass up in her jeans

She got her friends with her too

We got Perks, we got blues, it ain’t no way that we could lose

Shit, so the conversation started, it feel like a party

Gave 'em three pills for a sample, they gotta know we ballin'

She say that she want twenty, lil' bro look down and look up, it’s a forty

You look over to the left, your door swing open, it’s two extra forties

Niggas start yellin', bitches disappear

You thinkin' to yourself, «How did I let myself get right here?»

Lil' brother lookin' at your tool, you lookin' back at him with fear

He thinkin', «Please, big brother, squeeze,» you take a breath and drop a tear

Now that pistol smack his face and blood start to race

You niggas ain’t movin' fast enough, y’all ain’t cooperate

Lil' bro done damn near lost his faith, you ain’t even attempt to grab the Drac'

Lil' bro fell towards the gun and the robber went 'head and handed him eight

Now it’s blood all on your dash, they goin' through y’all cash

Your heart beatin' so fast and you in shock, how this get so bad?

But wake up, nigga

That forty slap you in your makeup, nigga

Pull you out the driver’s seat and the robber pick your Drac' up, nigga

This ain’t San Andreas

You got your lil' brother murdered tryna get some head

And on top of that, you tried to finesse him like he was gettin' bread

He should’ve Ubered to the club instead

Probably look lame, but he wouldn’t be dead