| You know I never did understand
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| why they always told me to smile
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| shit it ain’t too much shit out here to smile fo'
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| real talk — you know it’s still Assholes By Nature, peep game
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| I remember comin up labeled the lil’nigga
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| watchin niggas fuck over they own, but see I kept it realer
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| but bein real ain’t always what niggas make it to be
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| I never thought we’d make it and I’d have niggas hatin a G I got enough shit that I deal with on the day to day
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| pennitentaries and life after death don’t seem to go away
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| even though I never know the outcome
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| somethin say to pray, and try to do my best to understand he right around the
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| way
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| I got a call from Mr. Rogers just the other day — telling me he by my side
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| I’m like what the fuck you talkin bout — until he told me Loinna died
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| it fucked me up so much I couldn’t even go the wait
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| but if her family call I’m a make sure that they straight
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| it’s like this part of my life I live is damn near mastered
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| the mo’people I love, the mo’they get took away faster
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| sometimes I feel I talk to God alittle mo’then a pastor
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| probably to live and make sure my son never become a basterd
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| I never been the one to quit, I always been a leader
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| but I feel this world is like a bitch and I know I don’t need her
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| if I knew it was this I’d never took the time to meet her
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| so I feel the frown across my face, the only way to greet her
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| in the process of bein’Trae, I missed out as a child
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| probably because reality my style
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| and they told my cousin death before he’s thirty after checkin his file
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| he damn near twenty — eight so how the fuck am I suppose to smile?
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| I don’t know my nigga, I ask myself the same shit everyday
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| how the fuck am I suppose to smile?
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| life’s real over here, you know
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| Styles don’t smile, the hood too foul
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| the lil’niggas is wild, man lost trial
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| hit e’m with some numbers he ain’t even gon’chow
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| he ain’t even sleepin, he been thinkin 'bout his child
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| it’s real fucked up but he won’t see him for awhile
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| same bullshit tryna get you a money pile
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| we all see the reefer, or the kill — doors locked
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| I keep the tech with the air hose cocked
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| now I don’t wanna shoot or get shot, but Paniro’s not
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| gon’fuck with these fuck niggas I air those blocks
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| it’s real hard to sleep, when it’s money on the mind
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| murder on the mind, puffin on a dutch with a fist full of iron
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| somebody’s mom cryin, cause somebody’s boy dyin
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| it’s the same ole shit, from the wait to the funeral same ole trip
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| crack money, rap money the same ole grip
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| ask Trae could I smile out in Texas, livin wreckless
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| said the cops gon’get you and niggas’ll leave you breathless
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| shit I’m a winner, mo’like a sinner
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| tryna make it to dinner — then live after breakfast
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| You know, Trae — S.P.
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| how the fuck are we suppose to smile?
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| nigga answer me that
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| and maybe I’ll fuckin smile, you know |
Song information On this page you can read the lyrics of the song Hard 2 Smile (Slabed) , by - Trae. Song from the album Tha Truth Show - Street Edition, in the genre Рэп и хип-хоп