Krizz Kaliko - Getcha Life Right lyrics

[Chorus:] I'm just tryna get my life right Get it to go my way (go my way) If ya ain't got pay I'm just tryna get my life right Top of the hill with my family Cop a couple mil can't be mad at me I'm just tryna get my life right Don't wanna beef with ya Get ya money let me eat with ya I'm just tryna get my life right Cause I gotta be the boss Gotta get it no matter what the cost Getcha life right [Verse 1: Krizz Kaliko] I ain't tryna be Bill Gates I'm tryna be the n***a Bill Gates hates Make no mistake 'bout it I'm tryna make it where my son see anything he want on the Internet and PayPal it I stay valid There ain't nothin' you can say 'bout it If ya hustle gimme enough greens to make salad I gotta get my money and my life right I push ya bucket as long as my momma and my wife right Don't really want people to see me in the wrong light And stop me from feedin' my son it's on n***a, on sight Pa** around that collection plate The selection got me feelin' n***a rich but I'm Section 8 Momma taught me how to behave But aunt showed me how to f** weed in a microwave So if you know me know I love you from a distance My absence is all about business [Chorus] [Verse 2: Skatterman] Some people callin' my story an inspiration Relatin' to the time I get if I skip this probation Patiently waitin' for me to slip so they can can me Off in a cell when I was just tryna feed my family But I'm addicted to these streets and blocks And this concrete is crucial, either ya eat or ya not Plan on reachin' the top Gotta be willin' to poke your shirt out Stick with the truth if you's a griddin' pa** the work out How can I judge a man that life just left me I'm blessed, knock on some wood Slip through the ice like Gretzky Every move I hope the vice don't catch me, I gotta try I used to pick shoes baby momma for an alibi n***a had to switch it up Rap game pickin' up It's critical, tryna walk that line of cash residuals I'm tryna make it to where my prophece is invisible And if I fail, just call me pitiful [Chorus] [Verse 3: Snug Brim] I'm just tryna get my life right The kids and the wife right But still I'll bust a mothaf**in' head if the price right Right or wrong Homie I don't give a f** As long as my son can get some [? ] for his Tonka truck I'm bein' in it Stuck in the game, dodgin' the [? ] cops Been griddin', [? ] things when will they f**in' stop (f**in' stop) Paranoid, thinkin' who gon' blow the whistle on me Change my daughter's diaper in the dope house with a pistol on me I sold coke, sold crack, sold this, sold that Pray to the Lord, but I won't never get my soul back I used to get the powder, when I touched it it would turn to bricks But lately everything my finger's touchin' seems to turn to sh** I go to church on Sunday cause I wanna be a good n***a But I'm a product of my hood n***a Plus I'm sick of being Strange Music's black sheep But I don't wanna go back to them back streets [Chorus]