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Pitbull Lyrics
Can't U Tell Lyrics
(feat. Red Cafe, Hot Rod From G-unit, Trazz, Jay Rock)Total views: 1 time this week / Rating: 7/10 [14 votes]Album: Dem Miami Boyz - EP / Original Release Date: 2008-08-19Genre: Hip Hop/RapSong Duration: 5 min 27 sec
Can't U Tell
Pitbull
Pitbull
PITBULL
Can't U Tell Lyrics (feat. Red Cafe, Hot Rod From G-unit, Trazz, Jay Rock)
[Hook: Murphy Lee] (x10)
Can't you tell that i came from the dope game?
[Verse 1: Pitbull]
My father was heavy in the dope game
I'm talking early 80s
You know them coke days
At a tender age I was breastfed cocaine
That was my first intro to the dope game
Grew up watching Tony Montanas in real life
It's only right I wanted to be Tony in real life
At 14 I started selling weed, moved on to acid, LSD
My mom found a stash and flushed, the whole thing
Oh Shit, now its time for a plan B
Caught my first 8-Ball at 120
Broke it drown and flipped it for 3
Did it a couple times, flipped O-Z's
From there, I was on my way keys
Got saved by the rap game, and that was it for me
Damn I came from the dope game
[Verse 2: Red Cafe]
Dope game raised me
I've been getting money since the 80s
While my hoes tryna tame me
I was making sure some fool paid me
While rap guys tell fiction
I'm in the courtroom beating the conviction'
I play hard in Detroit like a piston (what else?)
My weed bags be chunky, call it Lipton
Lipton, homie what it be like
Sit the pot in the ice so it freeze right
Take the cookie out, put it on the bounty
I'm from the go-game, homie kings county (what else?)
Master criminal activity
Flatness squeeze, clack, clack willingly
Credit card scams, i bust checks on 'em
Anything to get green like the jets on 'em
[Verse 3: Hot Rod]
I swing bars like dope, blow
My 16's be the o's, my flow be the coke
Money ain't green even though i got soap
The trap house looking like a ski slope
Money, that is my wife
Put a ring on my wallet and guard it with my life
You see the coup, the products in the muffler
Call me Larry Flynt, jack I'm a hustler
When it comes to this shit I'm a monster
And when it comes to this shit you win an Oscar
Welch ass nigga you's a Simp
Me, I'm a pimp, leg's fine but I limp
Got cane, candy red rain
Jay got Beyonce, I settle for Celine
Cash heavy gotta move it with a crane
My bread crazy, bank account insane
[Hook: Murphy Lee] (x4)
[Verse 4: Trazz]
When Trazz on the track it's certified crack
Baggie hit the streets you can watch your money stack
Rap's like the crack game, now I'm in a trap
Pay me 30 stacks, see your money double back,uh)
My 16's come out doper than codeine (what?)
One verse from Trazz, get you bigger than protein (yeah)
Music b-boy, beats i destroy
Flick my style and watch the pockets key lord
Whether rap or crack all the same (same)
Heroin flow, got it running through my veins
Stay in my post while they fiend for a dose
And see my product travel all the way down the coast
Oooh, It's like a virus, they got to try this
I love the green you'd swear I was Irish
I write my bars and sell them by the jars (jars)
The fiends here can't get enough, like el da barge, know why?
[Hook: Murphy Lee] (x4)
[Verse 5: Murphy Lee]
Now you can A-town stomp or you can rock away
But when I was hustling I never gave a rock away
They say St. Louis raised me, certified 80s baby
Been through a lot of shit for months, like a pregnant lady
All I remember is crip and blood differences
Some niggas made it out but others we remember them
But on the better note know we all getting money now
My past was no joke but everything funny now
I'm talking stress-free Bentley is nestle
Mr. What-the-hook-gone-be (Murphy lee!) that's me
Spending all money, sometimes on your honey
Taking turns for me, she making that to-go money
I'm glad I'm smart enough not to do a lot of stuff
Never had to prove that the young dude was hard enough
Even though I came from the city where I came from
Moves made all around me but I ain't saying nothing
[Verse 6: Jay Rock]
Can't you tell that I came from the dope game
150 grams of soda mixed with cocaine
The iron chef, I whip it up in hell's kitchen (tell 'em)
Shit it's all in the wrist, boy I'm nice with it
Get a coffee pot hot, drop some ice in it
Take it out, chop it down, put a price with it
Frank Lucas had the blue magic
I'm like Freeway Rick, I move traffic
I'm a hustler baby, things tryin' talk me down
I'm like f*ck you, pay me
Funds got bigger, guns got bigger
The block got dry then we robbing them dealers
When they come through, then we at it again
Cooking pies, do or die, but we at it to win
Got goons that'll bust, tell 'em where and when
Wide city dope boy, I got money to spend
Motherf*cker!
[Hook: Murphy Lee] (x9)
Can't you tell that i came from the dope game?
[Verse 1: Pitbull]
My father was heavy in the dope game
I'm talking early 80s
You know them coke days
At a tender age I was breastfed cocaine
That was my first intro to the dope game
Grew up watching Tony Montanas in real life
It's only right I wanted to be Tony in real life
At 14 I started selling weed, moved on to acid, LSD
My mom found a stash and flushed, the whole thing
Oh Shit, now its time for a plan B
Caught my first 8-Ball at 120
Broke it drown and flipped it for 3
Did it a couple times, flipped O-Z's
From there, I was on my way keys
Got saved by the rap game, and that was it for me
Damn I came from the dope game
[Verse 2: Red Cafe]
Dope game raised me
I've been getting money since the 80s
While my hoes tryna tame me
I was making sure some fool paid me
While rap guys tell fiction
I'm in the courtroom beating the conviction'
I play hard in Detroit like a piston (what else?)
My weed bags be chunky, call it Lipton
Lipton, homie what it be like
Sit the pot in the ice so it freeze right
Take the cookie out, put it on the bounty
I'm from the go-game, homie kings county (what else?)
Master criminal activity
Flatness squeeze, clack, clack willingly
Credit card scams, i bust checks on 'em
Anything to get green like the jets on 'em
[Verse 3: Hot Rod]
I swing bars like dope, blow
My 16's be the o's, my flow be the coke
Money ain't green even though i got soap
The trap house looking like a ski slope
Money, that is my wife
Put a ring on my wallet and guard it with my life
You see the coup, the products in the muffler
Call me Larry Flynt, jack I'm a hustler
When it comes to this shit I'm a monster
And when it comes to this shit you win an Oscar
Welch ass nigga you's a Simp
Me, I'm a pimp, leg's fine but I limp
Got cane, candy red rain
Jay got Beyonce, I settle for Celine
Cash heavy gotta move it with a crane
My bread crazy, bank account insane
[Hook: Murphy Lee] (x4)
[Verse 4: Trazz]
When Trazz on the track it's certified crack
Baggie hit the streets you can watch your money stack
Rap's like the crack game, now I'm in a trap
Pay me 30 stacks, see your money double back,uh)
One verse from Trazz, get you bigger than protein (yeah)
Music b-boy, beats i destroy
Flick my style and watch the pockets key lord
Whether rap or crack all the same (same)
Heroin flow, got it running through my veins
Stay in my post while they fiend for a dose
And see my product travel all the way down the coast
Oooh, It's like a virus, they got to try this
I love the green you'd swear I was Irish
I write my bars and sell them by the jars (jars)
The fiends here can't get enough, like el da barge, know why?
[Hook: Murphy Lee] (x4)
[Verse 5: Murphy Lee]
Now you can A-town stomp or you can rock away
But when I was hustling I never gave a rock away
They say St. Louis raised me, certified 80s baby
Been through a lot of shit for months, like a pregnant lady
All I remember is crip and blood differences
Some niggas made it out but others we remember them
But on the better note know we all getting money now
My past was no joke but everything funny now
I'm talking stress-free Bentley is nestle
Mr. What-the-hook-gone-be (Murphy lee!) that's me
Spending all money, sometimes on your honey
Taking turns for me, she making that to-go money
I'm glad I'm smart enough not to do a lot of stuff
Never had to prove that the young dude was hard enough
Even though I came from the city where I came from
Moves made all around me but I ain't saying nothing
[Verse 6: Jay Rock]
Can't you tell that I came from the dope game
150 grams of soda mixed with cocaine
The iron chef, I whip it up in hell's kitchen (tell 'em)
Shit it's all in the wrist, boy I'm nice with it
Get a coffee pot hot, drop some ice in it
Take it out, chop it down, put a price with it
Frank Lucas had the blue magic
I'm like Freeway Rick, I move traffic
I'm a hustler baby, things tryin' talk me down
I'm like f*ck you, pay me
Funds got bigger, guns got bigger
The block got dry then we robbing them dealers
When they come through, then we at it again
Cooking pies, do or die, but we at it to win
Got goons that'll bust, tell 'em where and when
Wide city dope boy, I got money to spend
Motherf*cker!
[Hook: Murphy Lee] (x9)
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Songwriter(s): DJ Noodles, Murphy Lee, Hot Rod, Red Cafe, Jay Rock, Trazz, Pitbull
Record Label(s): 2008 FYFMG
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