Lyrics
I know how it feels to wake up fucked up
Pockets broke as hell, another rock to sell
People look at you like you's the user
Selling drugs to all the losers, mad Buddha abuser
But they don't know about the stress-filled day
Baby on the way mad bills to pay
That's why you drink Tanqueray
So, you can reminisce and wish
You wasn't living so devilish, shit
I remember I was just like you
Smoking blunts with my crew
Flipping over SIXTY-TWO's
'Cause G-E-D wasn't B-I-G, I had to get P-A-I-D
That's why my mom hates me
She was forced to kick me out, no doubt
Then I figured out Nick's went for 20 down south
Packed up my tools for my raw power move
Glock 19 for casket and flower moves
Four chumps trying to stop my flow
And what they don't know will show on the autopsy
Went to see papi, to cop me a brick
Asked for some consignment and he wasn't trying to hear it
Smoking mad Newports 'cause I'm doing court for an assault
That I caught in Bridgeport, New York
Catch me if you can like the ginger bread man
You better have your gat in hand
'Cause, man...
A man with a dream with plans to make C.R.E.A.M
Still struggling, survival got me buggin'
(Souls of a soldier in the streets of survival)
Life as a shorty shouldn't be so rough
(The rough life, I just be up nights, it got me)
Still strugglin'
(Champagne)
Lay out, you maintain
(In the everyday struggle)
I grew up on the crime side, the New York Times side
Staying alive was no jive
Had secondhands, moms bounced on old man
So, then we moved to Shaolin land
A young youth, yo, rockin' the gold tooth, 'Lo goose
Only way I begin to G off was drug loot
And let's start it like this, son, rolling with this one
And that one, pulling out gats for fun
But it was just a dream for the teen, who was a fiend
Started smoking woolies at 16
And running up in gates, and doing hits for high stakes
Making my way on fire escapes
No question I would speed, for cracks and weed
The combination made my eyes bleed
No question I would flow off, and try to get the dough all
Sticking up white boys in ball courts
My life got no better, same damn 'Lo sweater
Times is rough and tough like leather
Figured out I went the wrong route
So, I got with a sick tight clique and went all out
Catchin' keys from across seas
Rollin' in MPV's, every week we made 40Gs
Yo, brothers respect mine, or anger the TEC-9
