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If you a thug my nigga be a thug if you sell drugs my nigga then sell drugs if you gonna rap about it be trill about it and don't say shit if you can't |
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BE REAL about it [Verse 1] |
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Comin up as a child all |
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I seen was hell |
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My momma was the best soldier, dad stayed in out of jail |
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I came robbin and kickin in doors then went from a half to sellin 10 o's |
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But ya see shorty, |
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My mom was a |
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G she made it real easy for my sista and me |
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She did what she had to do, and got out the damn crowd like a nigga would do |
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Talkin about pimpin, o she did that too |
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I got robbed and this old nigga took all my loot |
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And I was just 12 years old on 13 skin and bones thats why |
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I think my heart is so cold |
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I gives a fuck about none of you hoes |
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All you fake thugs think about is grills and gold, and pressin these doors (shorty) and cakin these hoes |
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Ima pimp, |
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I spend my time makin these hoes [Chorus] [Verse 2] |
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Nobody loves me so |
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I guess I stay to myself |
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A nigga thinkin bout change contemplating my death |
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Fell my pain as it reigns all over a nigga and the only way |
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I can get away is weed and liquor |
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Fukin niggaz up on the daily if they didn't pay me |
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Niggaz pullin guns on me damn near drove me crazy |
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Young nigga went to school just to sell some dope |
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A lil crazy ass nigga wit a knife in his coat |
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And in the streets broke heathens went through drama especially momma swung on a nigga, |
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I stabbed the bitch in her head (nigga) |
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I dun scratch my head unless it itches an |
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I dun smoke unless |
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I'm bustin at you hatin bitches nigga we was bred to die, don't be askin me why |
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Ill rather hustle in the cold cuz niggaz sprayin wit fire |
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All the childhood fixins wit tha devil inside the kitchen |
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Got my mind on my gun and |
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I'm finna pull a pistol [Verse 3: Bohagen] |
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You see the streets, they'll shallow you whole, mind body and soul |
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And leave you in a ditch wit no shoes and clothes |
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Waitin for the trash collector |
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Follow me mind selector to the ghetto sector |
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They'll kill you over thirty dollars |
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I seen a man cut wit a dirty bottle blood squirted on his shirt and collar |
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I heard him holla a sound that |
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I cant forget |
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Ran home, watched cartoons and ain't said shit |
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And to this day momma thought |
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I was up at the park while she was at the church praising the lord |
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I made through amazingly unscarred |
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She had to be praying cuz |
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I made it by the grace of the god |
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I'm proud of my hard times, |
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I spit hard rhymes |
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Bible in one hand, the other hand 9 dreaming of naming streets and boulevards mine |
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Grab yo piece of the pie, the other parts mine [Chorus - 2X] |
