Donnie Houston - I'm Talkin' Bout lyrics

[Intro: Baby Ace] Yeah, you right That would sound dope Yeah Yeah, yeah Look [Verse 1: Baby Ace] I-I-I remember, it was winter, I had flew back from Virginia Back to Houston, that's my hometown, the city that birthed me with no placenta It was like '05, I grabbed my notebook, I grabbed my boom box, I grabbed my pencil Old school n***as said I had potential, you could be big and monumental Got in the booth and I went to work, stuck in the lab, should've went to church On a Sunday, now it's Monday, damn it's Tuesday, man like Houston Gets so groovy, it's a movie, when I'm doing it, it's a show I got it on lock, n***a, [?],'dro on lip when we hit the door Life been rough but I do my thing, n***a come back quick then boomerang It don't take much to pursue the game, if it don't make money, better use your brain I can't lie, I can't complain, even though I know it ain't the same Cause I'm a grind till a big bank [?], get low-key richer than [?] [Hook] I'm talking bout three hundred sixty five days Thinking bout three hundred sixty five ways My momma told me "go head, go head, go head" And then she said "get your bread, your bread, your bread" I'm talking bout three hundred sixty five days Thinking bout three hundred sixty five ways My momma told me "go head, go head, go head" And then she said "get your bread, your bread, your bread" I'm talking bout I'm talking bout I'm-I'm-I'm talking bout [Verse 2: Rob Gullatte] (Man, three sixty five) (Southside) Living life like tonight the last We been broke to the point we can siphon gas With no lights and gas, we had to strike a match I'm like f** that, momma, I'm a fight the past And make our future look bright like a yellow b**h Getting money to the point that we hella rich And our neighborhood looking like a settlement Been gutter but a n***a ain't settling Kicking doors down cause they didn't want to let us in Outraged because now they will never win I been riding with that ace and that [?] When we was hurt and this ho had no income Just a whole lot of grinding with flowing dumb The people on dick trying to watch me cum Trying to see me ride like a [?] pie But nothing sweet on the side where I'm knee deep high And these streets on the west, n***a, 3-6-5 2-4-7, no 9 to 5 Just a crazy grind, baby we'll be fine And see the look in their eyes when they see me shine Like a n***a just stepped out a TV john Been going so hard need a Wheaties box (Need a Wheaties box) Every street on lock From the CDs dropped, they won't see me flop [Hook] [Verse 3: Baby Ace] (Get your, get your, get your money) (Get your money) O-O-Oh my Lord, times are hard, I'd known bullsh** I'd go and get My momma told me get off my a**, my old man told me "get on your sh**" Nothing has changed, I still hustle the same, and ever since Big Pokey was the hardest spitting The boy can spit like I'm missing a tooth, so when I step in the booth, man you won't forget I do this here like three sixty five, thinking bout ways just to get me by It ain't no handouts, it ain't no cosigns, it ain't no shortcuts that you could try You better not cheat yourself cause there's a chance that you might not see July Better get that dough and then treat yourself, and you ain't got to have a plane just to see the sky I got a call the other day, my n***a T done died (my n***a T done died), my n***a T done died (my n***a T done died) That done f**ed the hood up cause it was too soon to see you fly One time for the Mo' (one time for the Mo'), look, we got to grind for the bro So I'm a chase that check, get mine, and then get on, thugging till my time is gone [Hook]