[Verse: D-Pryde] YeAH! I wish a motha'f**a would 'cuz they won't really know the outcome Forbes list or die I put that on the chick that I came out of And I be LIVE, k**in' em High and fly in this I can't work a 9-5, I want 5-9 Million (Fresh and lucky?) to get this Hella love in this business Bummin' through this royal sh** I'm a peasant f**ing a Princess No Alicia, they fallin', no Phil, but they callin' I don't understand why these rude a** rappers get melancholy On me, the flyest even when I'm wearing Crocs I don't see the feet like you wearin' socks Trying to make more money than your parents got All you rappers do is copy like when parrots talk f** all the bickering on who's the best You know who's stupid fresh Me and this whole rap game be some newly weds Givin' up on views, improving myself My ex-chick called me a "jerk-off", now I'm doing myself Yeah, buddy got flame And I'm lovin' this game Catch me in the main city with a Honey Cocaine A Honey Cocaine herself That's my trill(?) b**h I always seen her as somebody I could build with Tell 'em that my Brampton bellboys are in the building My family still struggling, I'm just ready to k** sh** Yeah, I'm jumpin' at 'em with sk** Every trip my mom takes to the hospital for chemo, is another rapper I k** Angrier than ever, but the angrier the better b**h, I'm cold to be around, please pack another sweater This for Debbie, I swear I hate seeing you hurt sh**, I've been through the worst, Everything is gonna work Losing your husband isn't easy, and I've lost a best friend And everything isn't gonna be as right as back then "It's all good," "move on," "grow up," That's what they tell me, I can never get into what they sellin' You know I see the comments like "I want the old Pryde," "this is sh** to me," b**h, I was 15, I'm 20 now, stop bickering f** the expectation, f** all the speculation And the fact that I don't deserve all the pain that my family's facing Brother is working a job, and it's hurting me hard 'cuz I'm making him proud, but I'm supposed to be famous by now I hate it, I'm trying to celebrate Whole team depressed, we trying to levitate And when I make make mad millions, I'mma L.M.A... O. (Owe) it all to haters who told me I would never make it Look, 2 Decades, four years in this, I hope you hearing this, Dad You ain't gotta hurt no more, I'mma work I'mma slave myself, and k** my own health Until I get filthy rich and you won't have to work no more Instead of going strip clubs, dollar bills, ain't (?) here with my main clique One day, I'mma walk into this b**h and make it rain quick Man, I can't be wifed up, I ain't got my sh** together If I do that sh** now, I'm only doing it for pleasure Bucking shots at everybody on my target list Why? 'cuz they gotta know that I worked hard for this Gotta work this year, we've been through enough though And I'm about to make this year The Year of The Russell 2 Decades