Hard Life
Lyrics
(L Beats)
My nigga said somebody snitchin', put a face on him
We killed the witness, now we call this blick the case burner
I'm rich as fuck, homie, my money good
Don't matter what, I can't stay out the hood
I love to know how all my people doin'
How would they feel if I go Hollywood?
I love my niggas so much, I let 'em cut me
He used to love me 'til he got some money
He went commercial, I stayed on the ugly
He met a bad bitch, she took him from me
My soda muddy and I'm from the mud
Since elementary, I was in the club
Me and my friends grew up buckin' cars
Yeah, we was kids, but we was thuggin' hard
Me and Lil' Wheezy I don't know where to start
The shit you did, it really broke my heart
Raw jacket, cat would never bend
Project Pooh, Popeye and brutal kid
Like every year, I'm always doing big
I'm tryna chill but they won't let me live
This for the projects, Miss Ruth to me
I'm so smart to beat my ass but I got foolish ways
I tote .380s and I tote .38s
I hope the jakes don't find my dirty K
Got on a chase, I had to swerve away
Glad they ain't catch me with my dirty K
Yeah, I'm not a waiter but I'm serving yay
I'm thinking 'bout my next murder play
I lost my conscious to the streets, I can't even think
I'm always in and out of beef, I can't catch a break
As soon as I deal with one of you fuck niggas, another come
Ain't got no money, baby, just hard dick and bubble gum
I got a daughter on the way, but I want me another son
I'm tryna have a hundred mill' before the summer come
I pop a lot of pain pills because I got me some
These days I'm never standing still, you think I'm on the run
The race, was ridin' 'round, I think they onto somethin'
We beef a lot, but dawg, you're still my mama's oldest son
You ain't stand up for me, I needed you, but I gotta forgive ya
Fuck how I'm feeling, you my sibling, I gotta forgive you
When them niggas spoke up on your name
I took it personal, I got out there to do my thing
And I be wonderin' like when is you gon' to do the same
It's been thunderin', my window pane gettin' hit with rain
Feel like the alphabet boys be tryna squeeze a Z
I'm dropping hits and I do PPP's and easily
Surprise I made it in this rap, streets had me in too deep
I keep the strap, I be ready to smack shit, yeah, DVD
She callin' all different numbers, I put my phone on DND
Got a couple rubbers, leakin' bitches in the BnB
I be dressin' dirty, I don't really care 'bout fashion and stuff
Still be carryin' myself like I don't be havin' this stuff
Writer(s): Bill Kapri, Lester Williams
Copyright(s): Lyrics © Warner Chappell Music, Inc.
Lyrics Licensed & Provided by LyricFind
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