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"Yo, look
There's wisdom in my words but some men can't see it
Thinking they gon' find the truth in that sh*t they reading
My pen stay bleeding, this the pain from them days
I spent sitting next to moms in them N.A. meetings
Knowing she gon' smoke again, first of the month
We was rolling and by time the fourth came, we was broke again
So the dope man fed us, we gram sellers
I'm more Manuel Noriega than Mandela
They want me in a jam like I don't know no damn better
Crammed in a three-man cell, skimming through fan letters
Like what the fu*k I'm doing here in the first place?
When all the weed burn out, I'm in my worst shape
I think I'm cursed, wait, damn
Brand new pistol, I'm dying to take that bi*ch out like a first date
When it's my turn, watch the game get shifted
My brain the sickest, so every line pain inflicted
My brother went out like dark-skinned Jermaine, I miss him
He had a bullet with his name in the chamber, sitting
I hang with spitters but really got my name in kitchens
So I do it for them n*ggas with that same ambition
This the part where the bi*ches and the cars get faster
The richer these rappers get, it's like the bars get trasher
I'm the wrong rapper n*ggas wanna target after
I'm like Bob Backlund mixed in with Marvin Hagler
The butcher

[This is a discussion/feedback topic only]

"We pull up, jumping out them V12 engines, detail kitted. Females with us, the hoes driving like it ain't got no seat belts in it"

When n*ggas said they need less trappers and more poets
I kept talkin' to hustlers that's more heroic
It's a difference when you rise out the ghetto, come back and grow it
The game broke my heart in three places, I never show it
Close my eyes and the voice in my eardrums tell me 'fore the Feds come
To turn these bread crumbs to a hedge fund
Y'all the type to change your life when n*ggas survive shootings
You made it out alive, retired, and drive Uber
I laugh at this whole sh*t, how I captured it so quick, yeah
I ran the field with the passion of old Vick
Y'all dumb n*ggas broke 'cause money and accidents don't mix
Trafficked my flow just like I'm back to my old tricks
Been a young legend, I caught flashes in '06
Buttons on the driver's side make the passenger door flip, yeah
I've been gettin' a little too accurate, I need new challenges
You know the rules, if you move backwards, then you do calendars
For street n*ggas, I'm the new catalyst, but who fathomed it?
My heroes in federal sweat suits and New Balances
What's the outcome for n*ggas like me? Where do I land?
I put a Prezi on my wrist when the streets forced my hand
Bumpin' into old beef in my city, we spinnin' blocks
There's pressure until we get the respect you give your pops
Can only name a few rhymers who had it like, "Dude got it"
Make a list, huh, and I'm on they heels like shoe polish
I let n*ggas talk all last year, I was too modest
Whole gang up and my safe stuffed like a Jew wallet
Uh, I pray for block boys who phones doin' fifteen hundreds
Just to turn the sh*t he pumpin' into crispy hundreds
Yeah, okay, we know it's rap, but don't forget we hustlers
And how we used to bag dope up on empty stomachs

Joe Pesci 38

His verse on this. Lawwddd

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Eclectic said view image view image "Yo, look There's wisdom in my words but some men can't see it Thinking they gon' find the truth in that sh*t they reading My pen stay bleeding, this the pain from them days I spent sitting next to moms in them N.A. meetings Knowing she gon' smoke again, first of the month We was rolling and by time the fourth came, we was broke again So the dope man fed us, we gram sellers I'm more Manuel Noriega than Mandela They want me in a jam like I don't know no damn better Crammed in a three-man cell, skimming through fan letters Like what the fu*k I'm doing here in the first place? When all the weed burn out, I'm in my worst shape I think I'm cursed, wait, damn Brand new pistol, I'm dying to take that bi*ch out like a first date When it's my turn, watch the game get shifted My brain the sickest, so every line pain inflicted My brother went out like dark-skinned Jermaine, I miss him He had a bullet with his name in the chamber, sitting I hang with spitters but really got my name in kitchens So I do it for them n*ggas with that same ambition This the part where the bi*ches and the cars get faster The richer these rappers get, it's like the bars get trasher I'm the wrong rapper n*ggas wanna target after I'm like Bob Backlund mixed in with Marvin Hagler The butcher

Damn I came in to post this one. This sh*t was hard!

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*

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Somebody must be praying cause I ain’t ‘pose to make it
I think about it every time I see my kids’ faces
My pops wasn’t around and my momma was free-basin’
I was always on the grind, in and out of police stations
The legal system love to see a young n*gga fumble
And all my city is, is just a young n*gga jungle
They get it how they live, I watched them young n*ggas hustle
Bob and weave like Ali; “Rumble, young n*gga rumble!”
And I was hard headed ain’t nobody wanna talk to me
I was sick on filling-up on hotdogs and pork and beans
Caught a dope case, paid a lawyer and he fought for me
My momma said a prayer and my wife came to court with me
Guilty as charged for whipping that hard
Just to feel normal I had to sit in that car
But none of that matters when you sit behind bars
Piss and sh*t in that stall, blowing sticks in that yard
Nowadays they don’t know the meaning of a boss
When I was up top I heard my team took a loss
The set got intercepted, my people took a charge
We ain’t even sweat it, moved on, shook it off
If I was in the town that probably would’ve been me
Whole brick rottin' in a rented SUV
Life taught me this; even freedom ain’t free
I say a prayer every night, right before I go to sleep
I could’ve been a lawyer instead I was a gangster
All worked out for a n*gga so I’m thankful
Strays hitting kids, n*ggas dying over paper
In my hood'll still ride like I just filled the tank up
I ain’t that spiritual but I’m a walking miracle
We used to be poor, for dinner we ate cereal
My grandma had died; I miss you and still cherish you
Cried in front of my whole family at the burial
My daughters probably know every verse from Rihanna
But we don’t go to church so they don’t know a verse out the Bible
That mean I gotta teach ‘em
Tell ‘em how Jesus was a king and a prophet, you’ll find him if you seek him
So, say a little prayer. then put one in the air
My beef is your beef, I told my brother we could share it
I don’t see how a snake can call himself a man
stab his own in the back then look ‘ his self in the mirror
I guess we all sinners, heart colder than four winters
That headband kush kept me higher than four ceilings
In my city it can never be personal, all business
And that four-pound'll twist you and bend you like car fenders
I got pain in my heart, cocaine in my thoughts
Blatantly glorifying how I play with that fourth
I was ashamed to earn a minimum wage, I was taught
That crime pays and a young age I was bought

Badnewz100 said Damn I came in to post this one. This sh*t was hard!

He was spittin' some real sh*t there.

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My background official, I don't back down from issues
I spin back 'round and get you, pull my mask down and clip you
You can go and check my record, not a blemish on my file
The whole Griselda bought Rolex's and put VS's on the dial
My man calling home sick, said he stressing over trial
I said, "You get a hundred years, you still a legend in the town"
We was youngsters who grew to be crooked, they threw me in bookin'
This beef sh*t, speak up, this Uzi'll cook it
They played hoops, I played the stoop with the tool and the bushings
First day I met your old lady, she threw me the pu**y
Yeah, we real n*ggas, hundred grand, that's my mother fault
I need another vault, n*gga, yeah, that's hustler talk
In this game of life, it mean death if you come up short
My man doing a stretch for a body that his brother caught
Cocaine jumping out the pot, so you know
That my post game standing on this block like Karl Malone, ah

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