Live from the ville, live from the ville, not worried 'bout copping a deal/
I'm worried bout drama with momma, the problems are real/
I pray to god, and Allah Muhammad, and jah, to bless us with dollars/
Not for the Prada, designer attire, but help momma profit with lot of these bills/
So she can retire, in silence, right on a tropical island/
In the mean time, the town is surrounded by sirens and violence, the problems are real/
My father was ill, me and my mom at the hospital, watching the doctor, drop him in hospice, god/
And since he died, the trauma with momma is live and unreal/
God- god, I'm tryna stop it and chill/
My partner got a line on klonopin, spot me for nada, he promise for real/
Block as hot as a sauna. body of toxins, driving a Honda, stop and vomit from vodka/
Copping a dime of the ganja while popping a lot of these pills/
Anything to distract me/
From that, and the fact that my dad's in the past, see/
I'm lazy with grief, but athlete when the track meet/
Me so ahead of your raps, I'll prolly lap me/
Ha, but back to the facts
Back to these gats that pop in sync in these backstreets/
Where if you a big imposter, you'd think you 'd win a oscar/
How they'll clap if you act, and that is a fact, b/
Working with what is given, who? I'm a wonderful wizard with words/
And I'm wicked with wisdom, my writtens are written to warm you or warn you, you witness the work/
And I walk in and wander this world- waging a war with the wave of the whack/
For a wage and wonder why within my wallets a Washington, wasting and wondering, what is my worth?/
What is my worth- slacking, f**ing with all these d**/
Wish I was there for my family, damaged, damn it, love 'em, put no one above/
My cousin, packing and bagging that action, crack, bucking on all these slugs/
I got brothers asking 'whats bracking' and a cousin who call me 'cuh'/
sh** is crazy, vision hazy, off of this good cess/
My dad is looking down an angel, at his 2nd youngest son/
His face is at an angle, know I'm often a shook mess/
See my laces getting tangled tryna walk in his footsteps/
And I'm still working on myself, its hard to be me/
You rappers need some help, as far as bars, you can't see me/
I look at what I'm dealt, I'm not ashamed of what I felt/
Cause these things I been through is what makes me- me/