Song information On this page you can find the lyrics of the song F.T.G., artist - Caskey. Album song Generation, in the genre Рэп и хип-хоп
Date of issue: 30.07.2017
Age restrictions: 18+
Record label: Cash Money
Song language: English
F.T.G. |
Ayy, fuck the government, tryna disrupt my reaches |
Ayy, money scans can discuss with leeches |
One hand wash the other hand, that’s the thesis |
Why they hands out when my count increases? |
I can’t understand a man who ain’t tryna be shit |
All my life, I been strivin' for new achievements |
Yeah, best believe, my hustle is Medellín |
My struggle is everything, I’m subtle with everything |
I run it in every scene, distinguished |
Even when liquor spilt on me, speakin' broken English |
My vision is pure, my light, it cannot be extinguished |
I pictured this now when I was only a delinquent |
Can’t fuck with nobody who motivation are relinquished |
And more people I meet, the more I realize that it’s frequent |
Y’all really need to skip the sob, picture God, go get a job |
Realize that the only thing stoppin' you from a lot |
Is your own mind, own thoughts, it’s in a knot |
Voices inside your head, whisperin', never stop |
And it’s always negative, it’s a wrist in the pot |
Even when it make somethin', there’s a twist in the plot |
Can’t tell the difference know 'tween a bitch and a thot |
'tween the real gang bangers and the pussies who flock |
Internet got you tryin' to be somethin' you not |
And it’s only goin' up, feel like it never stop |
I’d rather die real |
Y’all should clap for my victory lap, now stand still |
If I don’t speak the shit from my heart, what do I feel? |
If all I do is mumble on tracks, what’s my appeal? |
If all I talk about is my racks and bein' real |
And make you love money, you jacked, it get you killed |
And what’s the point of grabbin' this mic and tryna build? |
My voice meant to shake up your life, that’s why I’m skilled |
I smoke a lot of weed, my momma say I should chill |
I’m dealin' with victories and life with plenty seals |
People lookin' at me with eyes, they gotta share |
They see me as a blue dollar sign, acquired deals |
They me as an opportune moment to make mills |
So how the fuck do I find time that’s tranquil? |
Pressure like that bring average man to a standstill |
The weight the world all on shoulder like anvils |
I’m droppin' it off, meditation |
My lifestyle is, this my generation |
Lookin' off at my mind state, there’s no limitations |
Even when I had MySpace, I was pushin' greatness |
We try to make this music because if people can listen to this music like you |
see them today, it won’t be viable, it won’t live on. |
You understand? |
Today, it’s something like, disposable music. |
Cannot fall for that trap. |
The music must have spirituality, that is what the founding fathers intended, |
this music’s only sixty years old. |
Okay, too quick. |
There’s more to it than |
that. |
It’s entertainment, yes, so I would never knock it, I would never go down |
sayin' nothin' 'bout what some of my brothers might do to earn them bread. |
But the foundation of the music must be kept, and the moral standard of the |
music must be kept as well |