Boosie Badazz – Go Away lyrics

I ain't going back to jail bro
Nasty ass food thug
Can't sleep on lock down at night and shit thug
I use to love when my kids come visit me but
Tears in my eyes when they leave 'cause I can't leave with em you know
I ain't trying to go through that shit no more
I'm through with that shit for real
I go back to that mother fucker they gone talk bout me like a dog
And this is why

I don't wanna go away
'Cause I know how these bitches play
I just wanna ball and stay
Don't wanna go grey off in that place
Free well food still on my plate
Don't want no CO's in my face
I don't wanna go away
And miss my people everyday
'Cause if I'm locked up I can't get paid
Or hear none of my records get played
Or put more money in my safe
Have me wishing I woulda stayed
I don't wanna go away

I don't wanna go back
Nigga gone change and I know that
All my little change they gone blow that
No drank back ask em where the 4 at
I know they get grimmey so
Don't wanna hurt momma no
Don't wanna eat slop no more
I wanna eat pappadeaux
Probably hit the booth from Atlantic
Hoes gone jump out the boosie titanic with the quickness
Niggas gone turn into bitches
Michael Jordan gone need pimpin
Who gone answer every time I call (answer that)
Who gone take my lil boy to the mall (answer that)
Can't leave 'cause I'm up in my prime,
But the bigger the harder they fall
Did years behind that wall
Tears behind that wall
Fight, kick, throw shit but I promise you bitch
No fear behind that wall
Rather roll in my Roz
Cut my hair when I want to
Bath when I want to
Ride in my slab when I want to
If I go right back man I know what they gone do

I'm good right here I ain't tryna no nowhere
If it ain't about freedom if it ain't about money you ain't gone see Ro there
Hating ass nigga tryna make me lose my cool but I'm not gone go there (Ima chill)
You already know the king of the ghetto a fool will leave a nigga with no hair
Then Im have to get a bond
Im have to get a lawyer
Im have to be present for the docket
Up early in the mother fucking morning let the metal detector take everything out my pockets
You know I'm pose to be drop head with a bad bitch all up in her until she telling me to stop it
I ain't nothing but a baller tryna shoot my shot the judge and the prosecutor tryna block it
Its all good my deep ends like man to man
I know they wanna catch me selling something hand to hand
No roof Chris commissary bag in my hand in the penitentiary wishing for a dark carrovan
And all my real niggas doing that time I know they feel me
For something I had in my pocket I'm at a dime they tryna kill me