All I got is me, myself, and I, yeah
Yeah, babe, me, myself, and I
Section 8 Taliban, yeah
All I got is me, myself, and I, got myself again
Time is money, I need that money, got no time for no friends
Ain't nobody gon' ride like me, cause I'm gon' ride to the end
Been in fucked up situations, where you niggas would bend
Play my cards, I never bluff, and I ain't throw in my hand
Shit, I saw when times got hard, I watched my nigga renege
He snitched, we caught that charge, I can't believe what he did
Cause he knew what we was doing before we went on that lick
I been rapping and snapping, I fell in love with this shit
It caught up with me, cause I be jacking since I was a litting kid
I been trippin' and goonin', and throwing rocks at the pen
All that sticking and moving, it got me doing a bid
Look, nobody gon' keep it real how I be keeping it real
Coulda snitched and got released, you know they offered a deal
Put myself in tight positions, I can't even regret em
I was scheming, times was hard, and I just needed some cheddar
My life a movie, it's Kodak, I'm the movie director
Sometimes it can scary, but I know it's gone get better
Remember when it was my people, them was gon' send me some letters
Cause I was missing my bitches, and I was missing my fellas
Hot pocket on me, so my pants keep fallin'
They wanna take me out the game, but I just keep on ballin'
Polo'd down, pop my collar, little nigga shot callin'
Could just hold up for me on the other line, guap calling
I'll get back to you later, I'm rollin' out of my tater
I been leaning so damn much, and now it got me disabled
Niggas grimey', be conniving', do shit under the table
Just last night, John John got yoked by the raiders
Fucking 'round on the ugly, hit that boy with a taser
Once I came out the womb, I jumped straight to teenager
They say I'm a demon semen, young boy, hell raiser
If I ain't pullin' up in a foreign, then I'm pullinga caper
Project baby paper chasing, tied, they dead flies
Institution
Run up on me, send you straight to your maker
All that kush that I be smoking, you think I'm from Jamaica
But hell nah, I ain't from Jamaica, bitch, I'm from golden acres
And I'll tag you with that 9, and that bitch got a laser
And I'll lay a nigga down, I'm like "fuck nigga, pay me"
I ain't baking, but I'm caking, I should open a pastry
I got dope in the basement
Paroles2Chansons dispose d’un accord de licence de paroles de chansons avec la Société des Editeurs et Auteurs de Musique (SEAM)
