(feat. A.C. Chill, L.T.)    Phat Money Records  SPM baby  Putting it down with that Phat Money Records  Dope House Records  Phat Stacks, A.C. Chill, L.T.  This one's Ghetto Tales  What you know about that?    [Chorus (2Xs)]  These are the tales, the Ghetto Tales  Dope sales and life is hell, trying to stay out of jail    I'm rolling H-town South Park backstreets  A.C. Chill all the O.G.'s know me  In that Bourbon with the candy paint  For deep most of my niggas ain't got no car that's why  we so deep  We left a funeral to see my homie's mamma cry  It always hurt me when any of my homies die  All of a sudden gun shots rang out  I guess these young G's plexin' gang bang clout  We pulled over I said “Let me out this bitch man”  One of these niggas finna get they wig split man  Pulled out my strap you know how the show goes  Somebody yelled out and yo here come the Po-Po's  I told my niggax “Yo man I'll Catch you later”  Got pocket full of weed plus they got me on paper  Bailed around the corner to holla at my homie  Next thing you know the fucking haters roll up on me  Damn, how much hating can a young nigga take?  First chance I get a mother fucker finna break  They caught me, now I'm in the jail cell pacing  Damn, a violation  Eighteen months is what I'm facing    [Chorus (2Xs)]    Im pushing weight trying to have it  Everything is flat  But at the same time I'm leaving niggas on their back  Up in the neighborhood I'm trying to stack a little cream  I'm paper chasing me and we trying to stack some green  And everything is far as bad when it comes to drama  I'm trying to make a little cash for me, Jay, and mamma  Ain't paying no bills but these niggas got me fucked up  I rather sit on streets than see my ass locked up  And serving fiends is an everyday life thing  And from the cells chilling trying to have a nice day  And for this 420 Eastex life thing  I got the skills to hit a nigga from big mar man  And platinum shit we gonna drop on the block-a-dee  Come watch my tongue twist wrecking with my boy “C”  Trying to survive make a meal with these ghetto dreams  We playa made plus we from the heart of S.E.    [Chorus (2Xs)]    SPM baby sitting dope fiends at the dead end  Fighting over sales with my motherfucking best friend  Used to be broke and assed out  Now I buy Diamonds that make my wife pass out  Bad route was a path I chose  Blasting hoes  At last I rose  I got cash and clothes  From the crack I sold to let you bastards know  Stacking dough sitting on glass and vogues  My ass gonna show  I'm straight out of the slums  South Park where you get your car washed for crumbs  But these laws is on a cookout  I used to get took out  Three dollar pieces for my look out  Licensed cookie baker  That's my profession  Never have my dope in my own possession  Niggas selling cocaine in my domain  I sneak up from the back and take you out with no pain    [Chorus (2Xs)]