Lyrics:
depressed
Little at the time
Due to the fact was betrayed
By the same
Ones I gave
All my love
What a shame
So many nights
Thinking suicide
Fucked in the brain
the quicksand, hair wrapped like arabs from Iran
We crash clubs, black blood, shed for money love
Backstabber's hugs, little kids follow thugs sellin drugs
lane with
My best name and a child seat
I sometimes fry my shit brain like
Woman with a child be
On some home alone shit, balling
On some Post Malone
I'm a get my bum rushed
By some fucking faggots who just wanna pick on a fucking runt
Stand by homos till I pull out a fucking gun
And then you'll run
I had shown a great acumen for playing music by ear. My father bought me a small keyboard that was maybe like one or two, maybe three octaves. And I
tenth grade was like fifty days away
Tryna get paid fifty ways a day
Used to put fifty on the layaway, now my closet fifty shades of grey
Twenty six
Bishop we need mo
Product in the streets, cause if I need to eat
The cops Can indictment me and I still won't cry defeat
Imma always find a way, my hood
drop-Vette, Caddy
Bitches don't call me by my name they call me daddy
Say that you got it all
Love the way you players ball
Everyday you're at the mall
drop-Vette, Caddy
Bitches don't call me by my name they call me daddy
Say that you got it all
Love the way you players ball
Everyday you're at the mall
Hov on the remix with Mya, you see the "best of me"
I love the way you support me and you invest in me
Tell you get ready by seven, and looking
shooting like Stephen that boy don't miss shit
That's why
I just told my nigga grab them choppas let's go sliding
Niggas always acting they be capping bitch
like a can of coke"
He said, looking a little bit maniacal
I was sure he'd turn me into a casserole
When he pulled out what was surely my ransom note
buried six feet under the snow
This little light of mine
It'll never get its time to shine
My music's like a bottle rocket failed to launch
It's just
started clappin' shit
Bro, this shit like stephen from the Three, he ain't passin' it
And my name got me shit for free, I ain't ask' for shit
Think about my
Know
I be the boy with the better flow
The way I battle
I battle like I'm a swingers
From here to Plymouth
The streets love what The Movement delivers
Sherrie's mom
Very lovely and very young
Very bubbly and very fun
And she treated me like her very son
The love was running deep
The bills was running up
My
I got bitches in my coupe (huh)
Me and Breezy, fifty hoes, by the group (by the group)
That's yo' bitch, she told a lie, ain't told the truth, ooh
that ass fat
You didn't turn around, you asked if I like that
I'm like yeah, girl, you should send some more
You had my jaw dropping straight down
Sometimes I feel like my little brother
Missed his brother growing up
Sometimes I feel like
I missed my little brother growing up
I'm so sorry my demons are
brought you to a fair and there I took you for a ride
I threw a ring around a bottle and your love it was my prize
But now you've gotten just a little bit
the way she always let me dig in her rib
The bitch fuck a nigga like she wanna move in my crib
Bitch I always knew ya ass was a star
In the daytime,
No Stephen Hawking but this the shit I think about when I'm walking
And I look around and see so much scoffing and looking down like
What the fuck is
the rain
I couldn't find my way
You were by my side to pray
You were by my side to touch me
Hold my hands and love me
Tell me I would be ok
And the jah will
No rats allowed always been on My taken shit
Just like the big Bird off Stewart little
Niggas be Stephen A. Smith Never laced up in life
Always got
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