Lyrics:
round here
There ain't impossible, no
I ain't afraid, knowin' shit's gotta change
One day it'll never be the same
Just look into my heart you can
You harbor resentment
You know there ain't too much of a thrill
You wish for contentment
But you got an emptiness that can't be filled
You
Driving thru the brook
Four a.m., with the heat on
Baby smoking newport shorts
In your nissan
She said that she heard of me
You ain't hear the rep?
cause I didn't want to be a burden
Watch mama open up her arms to hug me
And I ain't worried bout a damn thing, with unconditional love
[Chorus: 2x]
(Listen)
I don't know why you care (why you thinking 'bout him, mama?)
He doesn't even know you're there, no, no (he ain't even paying attention)
'Cause
like it's turning into something
Better that than turning into nothing (way-oh, way-oh)
Ain't no interrupting this eruption (way-oh, way-oh)
(LD,
thoughts mixed emotion
You can see the devotion, these haters ain't provokin
Light the world up, I'm tokin
Versus steaming, I'm smokin
Windows down, rollin
or nothing, that's how the boss do
Step up out the club wit a dizzy head
I got two chick that got dizzy legs
I'm bout to double up (One on each arm)
You
of Chi where death is
Top floor of the view alone will leave you breathless
Try to catch it, it's kinda hard
Getting choked by detectives yeah, yeah,
give a damn bout how other folks
Treat you man
I just wanna let you know pimp,
You ain't missin' nothin' homeboy
Real Talk
[Chorus]
I know
'bout life
Drinkin' 'cause it tastes so right
They can get you in
Or get you out of trouble
But you ain't got nothing
If you ain't got a couple
probably wasn't, but it seemed a little better back when
Gravel lot spot by the porta johns
'Bout a quarter mile from the door
Worked three weeks for
the billy, billy goat, the goat, the goat's here
Vintage Hermes by Jean Paul Gaultier
Lagerfeld customize my gold chair
I run the point, you bitches just go
Real niggas ain't bad at it
These motherfuckers who owe me
Chopping off their head now
You love that hood that you represent
You bout that working
of an empty bottle, no
Or the motel down the road
You know there’s nothing funny
‘Bout waking up Monday morning yeah
When the pain inside your head’s the same
this ain't the thug life
Talkin bout the good life
Livin in da ghetto, wild
Talkin bout the good life
Livin in da ghetto, wild
What happened
the Dunn, P., but not the bottle
I keep broads by the (?)
Shape and mold em like waffles
Call em by the palm, get up in they ear like 'Uhh' make a dike
Yeah I see your little post, talking 'bout "BLM is my motto"
But you know it ain't
I see you over by the water cooler on your break
Talking 'bout
Seventeen, with nothing but pussy stuck on my mental
My motive was rather sinful
"What you trying to get into?"
She didn't tell, just gave me her Nextel
dunn
Just pain, just sufferin, and worst then that
You let me get my hands on you so I'm takin advantage
And that shit that you pulled ain't do me no
And you ain't 'bout to tell me nothing, boy, get off of my nuts
It goes one for the money, two for the show
My shit don't stink, I don't think so
Wipe my
the bricks
They said I ain't really bout it
I ask for the addy and
They really backing bitch
I get my money and stay by my lonely
While they on me and they
tun (Queens!)
Where I live, what I rep
QB dun' (Queens!)
The mob rep (Queens!)
You know we rep (Queens!)
I blow dro in Q-boro
Ain't nothing
questions
I can't fuck with you no more 'cause you be actin' extra
Do your favorite rapper like my son, like my son though
Nothing mutual about my funds,
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