| My baby mama’s ungrateful, she says I’m fucking up While she’s staying in my house, not paying a buck
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| Working a dead-end job, minimum waging and such
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| But going out on the weekends, shaking her stuff
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| While I’m out here in these streets for the sake of my son
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| I don’t wanna shoot no one but I’m taking my gun
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| In the middle of transition
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| Coming from kilograms, standing in the trap whipping
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| To going to the currency exchange counter with bad bitches
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| Like how much cash for a dozen? |
| Really that pimping?
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| So, so called family and friends, see me stack riches
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| And all they think is how can it benefit them
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| While they’re indifferent
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| But I’m wise enough to know that this fast money don’t stay
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| So if I stop putting in work it’ll all go away
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| But if I invest my resources and my time
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| In a fully legitimate grind
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| I can pass it all down to this kid of mine
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| When I was a little boy I had big dreams
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| Big house, big wedding, big ring
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| I’m so far from that, so far from that
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| So far from that, so far
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| My baby mama’s ungrateful, she say I’m fucking up What you want me to tuck my nuts and get sucker punched?
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| By these motherfucking punks, who got me out here ducking slugs?
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| Fucking subs, fuck is up, fuck your love, you fucking slut
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| Damn, I ain’t really mean that
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| But really for real though, I ain’t really that nigga to scream at I let you slap me in the past, but I’m different now, take heed of that
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| I’d probably black out and put rings where your cheek is at Bitch I didn’t win the lotto
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| Bitch you use a semi-auto
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| I was turning hella white, Vitiligo
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| Now I’m wrapping up the beef from me eating, it’s a taco
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| They hope my road to success is bumpy, they digging pot holes
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| So I got a lot of things on me that are not clothes
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| I don’t wanna do it, don’t make me shoot it These jealous broke niggers is just a nuisance
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| And these public school curriculums are just as useless
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| Put our children necks in nooses, we shouldn’t let em do it
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| We need to test the system, why they tryna test the students
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| I might just chop up your checks and disperse your pensions
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| They teach us how to go to work or to go to prison
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| Creative marketing by the prison industrial system
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| And that’s pimpin, that’s real
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| All these famous rappers will teach you how to go to jail
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| I remember being afraid of the dark when I was a child
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| And thinking to myself how blessed I was to have a mother who was there for me,
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| and wasn’t afraid
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| Then thinking to myself, who was there for my mother when she was afraid?
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| Nowadays I’m not afraid anymore
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| But I miss that feeling of having someone who’s there
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| With that look on their face that automatically guarantees safety
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| Where fear is but a figment of your imagination
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| And the world’s weights don’t exist |