| Lookin out my window, holdin my weapon like Malcolm X and
|
| And it seems I’m over-stressin, feelin like hatin is your profession
|
| And I know a couple Texans that got killed for over-reppin
|
| So I never be oversteppin boundaries bounded to my weapon
|
| When they ask me how I’m doin, I just tell 'em «I'm doin super»
|
| I got a date with Destiny, allow me to introduce ya
|
| Her little sister Fate told me I’m gon' be the future
|
| And legacy’s everything to a Martin Luther King Koopa
|
| This recession is so pathetic, got me feelin like I’m athletic
|
| And success tryna get away from me and I ain’t tryna let it
|
| When they told that Pimp was gone, my reply was «I don’t get it»
|
| And I’m still havin trouble believin it happened the way they said it
|
| Had to cut some partners off, swear to y’all it ain’t my fault
|
| I’ve been grown since I was seven and I was born to be a boss
|
| But I know there’s a bunch of haters tryna see me take a loss
|
| So I be sleepin with one eye open and put cameras in my vault
|
| I’ve been thinkin and gettin deep and they tryna tell I been preachin
|
| But I know that they can’t see how much of the world that I be reachin
|
| So stop reachin, stop leachin, I’ma fade 'em out like bleach and
|
| In the spots where they can’t get out to is the spots I visit frequent
|
| Europe to UK and Germany, travellin currently
|
| Made so much in millions that I could cash out in eternity
|
| Accustomed to hittin customs with that duffle full of currency
|
| When God created hustle, looked at the world and he inserted me… Koopa
|
| I’m just livin my life, so cold
|
| In the streets so I’m takin it slow
|
| Uh, yeah
|
| I’ll tell you my story, I only speak the truth homie
|
| It a terrible situation, throwed on the curb within the hands of time
|
| But since I’m blistery breathing I guess a nigga livin fine
|
| I live a life that’s filled with dramatistic people cryin
|
| And since the hood depend on me, they’ll never lose a hand of mine (I gotcha)
|
| I’m paralysed when it come to the good times, I’m used to the pain
|
| Feelin like a bum under the bridge, I’m so used to the rain
|
| Anything I do is from the heart so it reflect my name
|
| Forgive me for my sins father, I feel like I’m goin insane
|
| Media criticising me for checking niggas, fuck it, oh well
|
| I just wasn’t raised a little pussy disrespected nigga
|
| I’m tryna live on my own by the ways of a gangster
|
| So every time I leave out I pray so I’m prayin for a gangster
|
| It’s bad enough the world we livin in all about money
|
| Since we runnin out I choose to believe it ain’t nothin funny
|
| I’ve been stabbed in my back so much I deal with it
|
| I’m tryna kick it with my life before heaven come chill with it
|
| I’m just livin my life, so cold
|
| In the streets so I’m takin it slow
|
| Even in the rain I’mma do my thang
|
| Try’na get up out the fast lane
|
| Even in the rain I’mma do my thang
|
| Try’na get up out the fast lane
|
| Last year was a hard one but life goes on
|
| Thinkin bout my nigga Pimp while I write this song
|
| And the list goes on, all my niggas is gone
|
| I’m tired of hearin bad news, scared to pick up my phone
|
| Got a call, my nigga Eddy died from Acres home
|
| Just seen him at my video shoot, now that shit wrong
|
| Kelvo, Arborea, even my girl ShantZ
|
| I just heard word she got stabbed to death today
|
| Dear Lord, I pray that you take away the pain
|
| From their family and their friends, please help us change
|
| Still warm my niggas sleep dog, stessle and stank
|
| My girl Dee Dee, they got me pourin out my drank
|
| It’s fucked up, all my friends is dead or in the pen
|
| Seem like soon as your life begin it’s beginning to end
|
| I’m frustrated, but you gotta smile, your time is dated
|
| You never know when showin your love might be related, hah
|
| I’m just livin my life, so cold
|
| In the streets so I’m takin it slow
|
| You can’t run, and you can’t hide
|
| Cause it’s just life
|
| I wake up everyday and grind like the day before, grindin' fosho
|
| Don’t try to playa hate on how I get my dough, let me get my dough
|
| They should’ve told me how boys play the game so cold, play the game so cold
|
| But I ain’t trippin' mane, wanna paper chase let’s go, ready let’s go |