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(feat. Hot Flames) |
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[Intro: Hot Flames] |
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Yeah... it's that pain |
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Strongarm, Mathematics, yeah, yo |
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[Hot Flames] |
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Sometimes I zone out, starin' at the wall with the chrome out |
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I'm broke, but I'm black, so I can't take a loan out |
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Judges sendin' me in, cases hardly gettin' thrown out |
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Lost in the system, fam, like I miss 'em |
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Had a smart mouth, so the gods probably twist 'em |
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On the floor leaking, til the meds come and stitch 'em |
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Little brother got that, cops pistol whipped 'em |
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Heard he in the gay house, faggot nigga pimpin' him |
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Thought he was a thug, look what the world did to him |
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Everything's changing, everybody banging |
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Every where you go in this world, niggaz hating |
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Used to kick ass, now he take it in the anus |
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Told his moms, phone hit the floor when she fainted |
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She a Jehovah witness, she blamin' it on Satan |
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Both sons locked up, spend her nights prayin' |
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Welfare washed up, living in the basement |
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Daughter on the strip, now, hoe and for nathin' |
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Moms got arthritis, hands keep shaking |
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Couple months passed, now she buried in the pavement |
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Fifteen alcoholic, whole life wasted |
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[Chorus x2: Hot Flames] |
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Can I rise? And get to the laugh, through the cries |
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While I'm alive, the projects, the hood through my eyes |
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No lies, people relyin' or just enough cash |
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To survive, I'mma strive, to the top, before I die |
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[Hot Flames] |
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Little man again, tired of people making fun of him |
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Poppy spaz out, if you put the gun in front of him |
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O.G. hustling nigga, gave him a pack |
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Told him to, hold his head and gave him a gat |
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Shorty coming through, whips now, we started to stack |
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Started hanging out with pimps now, started to mack |
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Flossin', his lady got pregnant, had an abortion |
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Cops raided his crib, took half of his fortune |
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The other half that he had, was the O.G.'s potion |
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He's left for nothing, thirty thou', down the drain |
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Now he mad the gate, that he fouled the game |
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He got knocked, lost his dough, write after, he lost his hoes |
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Did a year, then they off of parole |
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Five years, it took that, couldn't wait to get home |
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But that O.G. hustler, was waiting with chrome |
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He owed him, twenty five, only gave him fifteen |
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He thought, being that he did time, the nigga wouldn't see him |
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But he did, came home and he was waiting in his crib |
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Came in his door, he had his lady, suckin' his dick |
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Down to the floor, he spazzed out, thought she was cheating |
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Til he seen her face was beaten, he had no gun |
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But he did start swinging, the O.G. whistle |
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Three niggaz came in with pistols, poppin' |
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And left, his last words, were 'baby, I miss you' |
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[Chorus x2] |
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[Hot Flames] |
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Son, started rappin at 12, by 15, he was sick |
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His whole hood thought he had potential, to be the next B.I.G |
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So many rap niggaz, offered to put him under the table |
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But he signed with no lawyer, to an underground label |
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Everything was good at first, so he was feeling the vibe |
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I mean, he knew he was gonna struggle, but he was willing to ride |
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They had him on some pretty shit, and it was killing his pride |
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But he held it in, kept it all, hittin' in sides |
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See, he was gutter since birth, he didn't know about flossin' |
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Coppin' him new Benz, he didn't know it was gon' cost him |
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He ain't know if he ain't blowin', he gon' wind up owein' |
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And that brand new car, they gonna wind up towin' |
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It's more than music, everything is based on business |
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He's a hard headed little nigga, never would listen |
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Signed off his publishing, for half of his spinach |
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Spaz out on 'em, and his whole career was finished |
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Til he signed to another label, and repaired his image |
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Got back on that hard shit, they ain't feelin' him now |
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Hand fools, last year, he was killing the crowd |
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Now he can't even go gold, he gettin' tired of the game |
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Niggaz makin' fun of his name, he gettin' tired of the shame |
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Took it out on his dame, now he locked in the bang, it's crazy |
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It's how we live, yeah.. |
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[Chorus x2] |
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[Outro: Hot Flames] |
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Can I Rise? |
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Can I Rise? |
