Verse 1
These rappers lives are like beds, most of ‘em f**ing made up
Should hear them talking ‘bout how how how how how how how they came up
They talking ‘bout they gangsta and how they leaving n***as laid up
Can't believe they talk that bullsh** just to get their fame up
But with ease real n***as knowing that them n***as fake up
b**h you can't match me
I don't need your a** to f**ing flame up
I guess that's what I'm here for
The hope that real n***as always prayed for
I mean damn, became a savior since a day old
Don't get me wrong
I ain't never called myself “Lord”
But Lord, why this music thing take a n***a so long?
My heart cold, my speech slow
Many fake n***as, I don't need those
I'd rather be all by myself
Ain't losing sh**, no repo
Young n***as doing wrong sh** right, right?
Could be that my eyes…don't see no good; dark is new bright
Man I feel for my n***as who got it worse
And n***as still find it hard to go to church
The pastors verse reach us hard when the n***a preaching
One's for the money
Two's for the b**hes
Three's for the fact God's answering my wishes
Done with the phonies
True to the n***as
Please save your pity for the one who really need it
Hoping one day Dice say he finally get it
Zoe finally winning
I'm shouting, “96 Boyz” to my n***a Lincoln
And I'm the motherf**ing prince for a f**ing reason
My life ain't Bel-Air, n***a it's just hell here
Said, “I'm the motherf**ing prince for a f**ing reason”
My life ain't Bel-Air, n***a it's just hell here