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Brother Vs Brother Video (MV)




Performed By: BTA Detroit
Language: English
Length: 2:20
Written by: Ernest Smith




BTA Detroit - Brother Vs Brother Lyrics
Official




Brother versus brother, gang, dying fifth
Industry never had a level
Tell me what a level is
And I'm living heaven with this
In the streets selling heroin, for the six
All I ever wanted was some money on my wrist
Took a wraith to the Forks
Scratched it off my list
I done been to hell and back with a twist
Money made me feel like I'm on hit list
You know what I'm saying, it ain't about this
It's about the respect I put on my name
F*ck these snitches and killers on St. James
They told me put some respect on my grave
You know we used to be slaves
Got a black gun and a black rag
Got more genes than the raves
Gang, gang, gang, we was born to be great
Rats and the sheep, pack of wolf for the fame
And we out here selling kilos, cocaine
God can only judge me
Ever wanna stay?
Rock boys in the building
Ever wanna play?
Drug dealer, killers, living large
I got champagne with a pretty girl, with a cute face
Wanna be a boss, you gotta have saints
Make em shut down the club from hurting from pain
You got them weak ass raps, you ain't tryna get rich
You got them long nights in the rain
Why you're playing with it,
If you're hurting from the gang?
Even back of the mind, back of cocaine
Everybody know the name of the game
You got them diamonds on your neck, and most of it's fake
Other side just to threat,
And most of it's just a waste of time
Gotta tell me how I tastes, even in the crime
[ Correct these Lyrics ]

[ Correct these Lyrics ]

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Brother versus brother, gang, dying fifth
Industry never had a level
Tell me what a level is
And I'm living heaven with this
In the streets selling heroin, for the six
All I ever wanted was some money on my wrist
Took a wraith to the Forks
Scratched it off my list
I done been to hell and back with a twist
Money made me feel like I'm on hit list
You know what I'm saying, it ain't about this
It's about the respect I put on my name
F*ck these snitches and killers on St. James
They told me put some respect on my grave
You know we used to be slaves
Got a black gun and a black rag
Got more genes than the raves
Gang, gang, gang, we was born to be great
Rats and the sheep, pack of wolf for the fame
And we out here selling kilos, cocaine
God can only judge me
Ever wanna stay?
Rock boys in the building
Ever wanna play?
Drug dealer, killers, living large
I got champagne with a pretty girl, with a cute face
Wanna be a boss, you gotta have saints
Make em shut down the club from hurting from pain
You got them weak ass raps, you ain't tryna get rich
You got them long nights in the rain
Why you're playing with it,
If you're hurting from the gang?
Even back of the mind, back of cocaine
Everybody know the name of the game
You got them diamonds on your neck, and most of it's fake
Other side just to threat,
And most of it's just a waste of time
Gotta tell me how I tastes, even in the crime
[ Correct these Lyrics ]
Writer: Ernest Smith
Copyright: Lyrics © O/B/O DistroKid

Back to: BTA Detroit

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