Mama told me to stay away from them niggas Mama told me she had a K for them niggas Mama told me she go to pay for them niggas But my grandmother told me that she would pray for them niggas They just young black and ignorant lusting over models and them Benjamins
Got the game twisted (like what?) licorice When I was rocking lottos moving packs up on McDonalds She was looking for me, pulled up in that old El Dorado I was running around with Chase, chasing new black wheels Why would I do that still? That's what got 2Pac killed But I use that still 'cause I won't do that deal Screw the muzzle in potatoes of that new Mac Mill What did I learn? Nothing, my papa smoking sure and bluffin' Beating on my moms like her head was a percussion Tat-tat my four five knocking on your window She said there would be days like this Pharrell, drop the instrumental
[Chorus: x2] I know I must go and I don't know my way Still somehow I know I'll end up where we all came from (From my mama's womb)
Crack a Swisher, crack the fifther Hennessy pouring like Niagara Falls Used to watch Magic, he showed me how to ball Mom's working late night, to get a plate right Had some older brothers, all we did was smoke and play-fight Wish I could go back to them days 'cause streets don't play right Some niggas hard, other niggas was the Kid 'N' Play type But that didn't stop me from pretending I was Apollo from Rocky Working on my dip-game, now nobody wanna box me
Pick and choose, stick and move So many dudes ended up with sleeping bags on late-night news But not my mama's son, going around the hood for serving customers She yapping in my ear, but it's louder than the muffler What I didn't listen to, I wish I would've trusted her Wish I had a shovel, be digging both of my brothers up Like, "Here hug em ma, one last time" Put a chain on both of them niggas, they get one last shine
Put your block down, recognize a king 'cause it's my town Word to my mother you can throw up your rock now Got off the beef shit 'cause I ain't tryna see my mama in all-black Right there, crying over hard facts Now she gotta turn in all her cars and get her house back Never, she carried me for nine months so she can have whatever Clever, she taught me how to shoot Berettas, told me that I'd be a king So R.I.P. to Coretta, if you don't understand that Then refer to my letter, while I sprinkle Niggas with platinum, from my last album Got the check, so I signed on the X like Malcolm Riding through the hood, you hating niggas like, "How come?" That niggas Game got it, heard he selling talcum Either way, playboy, check it, this is the outcome You might not like it, but my mama psychic Why you niggas twisted like the top of a sidekick?