Like a broke kid attending college cla**es/
I give top rhyming to the minds of the ma**es/
Got the mind of pac in the lobby, with Gandhi's guidance to guide me
My drive for rhyming got me wildin, bodying cla**ics/
Silence, I'm not fine with you making music, this is me, son/
Our goals are different, you're tryna film a movie with groupies inside a Jacuzzi, rock Gucci on a weed run/
I'm tryna get dollars, divide the booty like a threesome/
Me and my people tryna eat, son/
Believe him, I'm from where a kid'll stick you quick for loose change/
Don't matter your son is watching, they run up, a gun is co*king, to run your pockets just a bit quicker than Usain/
Your mother strickened with new pain/
Dutch stickers ripped, your brothers fill a swisher with new strains but today/
I'm tryna tell you, you can make it with your pa**ion/
Better than blazing haze, no escaping from the trapping/
Never thought that hip hop would take it this far
But now I'm gracing stages from NJ to playing down in Dallas/
And nothing's handed, this is real work/
Crafting songs you only make if you feel hurt/
I mean real hurt, hurting for a meal hurt/
See your aunt at your dad's wake high on pills hurt/
Couple of dutches like f** it, get drunker than double the skunks, just so I don't feel hurt/
Wake up, wonder the f** is up, cut it, numbing is dumb and even after the numbing you will still hurt/
You can feel this is real hurt/
And money can't fix the scars and damages/
That my upbringing brought, music's my gauze and bandages/
I'm tryna give you more than all that lavish sh**/
More than cars parking, acting barbaric at bars, star status sh**/
Never that/
That ain't real anybody who say different is too p**y like a pair of cats/
s**er, let us act/
Cause all we got is each other, my brother, please, be aware of that/
City blocks got the drama lit/
Mommas sit as the drama's popping, whether you buy Prada or your pockets gotta lotta lint/
Violent sh**, sirens surround the town, everybody quiet or out of it/
Flies flying out wallets, problems like Wallace big/
Do these kids got llamas? Does McDonald got condiments?/
While writer's got writers block, My cuz right on a rider's block, and riding, sick/
Prolly popping a Glock to a copper, then get locked in Rikers and be proud of it/
Wonder how my loud is lit/
Stressed with suicidal thoughts/
Prolly k** myself 'fore I own suicidal doors/
But, y'all bloods**ers need to cut with the act/
Puff a blunt of something, touch me and you f**ing with crack/
Never busting a gat/
Think Marty McFly shoes, cause I, kick it tight without touching a strap/
No one as sick as he/
Diss he pick up his trigger speed/
Clicking quicker than wiz is fixing indiga hitting trees/
Casted out, puffing loud at parks/
I was an Outkast with a sound to spark/
Before I was a big boy around clowns and narcs/
Where they ski mask for 3 stacks, the town is dark/
And poverty stricken/
Where the devil's possibly hidden/
You better peddle cause debt ain't settled with lottery tickets/
Though momma be getting, every scratch-off she can grab/
With the hopes of cash, dog, to blast off from the past/
But that's life is a tethered region/
My momma pocket and wallet had better seasons/
So I'll get her that cheddar whether the weather's freezing I'm in leather padded with pleather in a set of sweaters sneezing/
Shaking, making space jams/
I'm Jordan at the half court, no, I'm Leo with a pa**port, catch me if you can/