Who are rich and troubles are few May come around to see my point of view What price the crown of a King on his throne When you're chained in the dark all alone
I'm as real as they come, I follow the rules I'm still in the hood but I probably should move Made enough money, I don't fuck around I just felt they needed me, so I stuck around Feds got my man, shit is real son 'Cause my god son just became my real son Think life is a game but all you get is a turn You live and you learn, either you freeze or you burn Kush in the air, I'm pushing the gears Love turned into hate, hate turned into fear If it ain't right, I don't sign the deal Shoot me in the watch, I got time to kill Gasoline, propane, ain't no salary cap in the dope game Ain't no collective bargaining on cocaine So in other words nigga, do your thing
Mind in one place, heart in another Please pardon my brother He's just angry at you niggas Who don't have your heart in your rap shit And got too fuckin' comfy, 'cause we still fuckin' hungry Young Money, got the munchies Faded, fuckin' faded, aw yeah I'm fuckin' faded They tellin' lies about me, aw yeah I must've made it Rikers Island on this flow, eight months for that pistol But at least they had some bad bitches workin' in that shit hole ah! Three visits later, I went and did it major So fuck the judge, and the jury, and the litigator Watchin' all these kids who thought they had it figured out And then November came, they let my nigga out ow
Stop playin', I ain't with that bullshit Niggas act like bitches. Shanaynay, oh my goodness This is Wayne's World, and y'all are just some tourists Give me three wishes, I wish, I wish, I wish, you would bitch Brand new pussy, pussy good as baby powder Two glock forty's, nigga you got eighty problems Swimmin' in the money, Imma need some fuckin' goggles Its better to give, but we don't give a fuck about 'em I just came home, shit then got real hoe Lil' Weezy-ana, the boot nigga, steal toe I ain't workin' with a full deck but I deal hoe I just touched down, kick the motherfuckin' field goal Talkin' 'bout baby money? I got your baby money Kidnap your bitch, get that "how much you love your lady" money I know you fake nigga, press your brakes nigga I'll take you out, that's a date nigga I'm a grown ass blood, stop playin' with me Play asshole and get an ass whippin' I think you pussy cat ha, hello kitty I just throw the alley-oop to Drake Griffin I lay 'em down, tempur-pedic This shits a game of chess, you niggas think its cleavage Its young money, yeah 'tis the season I give you the business, bitch this a business meeting My niggas hungry, my bitches greedy Will I die a bloody murder? Dear Mr. Ouija Nigga, I'm straight, my girl a faggot Potato on the barrel, pop pop tater salad, ugh!
Writer/s: Alan Parsons, Andre Lyon, Aubrey Graham, Brian Pickens, Dwayne Carter, Eric Wolfson, Jason Phillips, Jermaine Preyan, Marcello Valenzano
Publisher: Kobalt Music Publishing Ltd., Universal Music Publishing Group, Warner Chappell Music, Inc.
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