My Story

Dis motha fucka on?... Okay
I think I wanna tell ya'll a little story
About a young boy, a very young boy,
Always playing games but never had a toy.
Making A's in school? Pshhh He couldn't do it
A crazy motha fucka yes everybody knew it
Long story short that nigga was me, that nigga is b,
Destined to be, a failure but I still made it out hell yeah.
I was stubborn could nobody tell me nothin'.
Walk around smokin' like I live in Amsterdam,
Middle finger to the sky like I don't give a god damn.
But rebellion is just a side effect, homicidal maybe, suicidal yes!

Boy I tell ya niggas be like why in the hell you so quiet nigga you sick?
Haha Hell yeah I'm sick nigga look at me! You can't tell?
What you think is even goin with my head? I don't even know I need got to tell me.
Anyways let's get back to the story enough of this shit talkin damn...

My daddy from the Barn and my momma from the Gutta,
So I guess that makes me a country motha fucka.
Anyways in school, your boy was a huslta
I had everything on deck to get that butta.
But I was headed down the wrong path,
Smokin weed sellin weed failin out of class.
But now it's like fuck what the po think I'm a let the dro stank
But I ain't for crack ya'll can have dat.
But on top of that I thought I got a bitch pregnant,
For 7 damn months I thought she was expectin'
Then I found out it wasn't mine, but that was only half the issues off my mind.

And today my parents were tellin' me
You need to go to college and you need to do this
And I was like no sir I'm straight on it I ain't trying to spend
40 thousand to be 50 thousand in debt when I graduate.
And a scholarship? what the fuck is a scholarship?
My G.P.A started with a damn decimal you know what I'm sayin? but anyways... let's go.

Back to the side of dealing with these problems,
I am back to graduate but I ain't fittin' to go to college.
So I gotta figure out how I'm a make some dollas
But I ain't in the streets so I gotta slang beats
Then I sold my first beat got a couple stacks
And just like a nigga man I spent it like that
Got a couple diamonds got a couple hats and
Filled up my closet with some shoes and some slacks

Now I am back to square one where I'm at now
Rappin in this booth in a basement of a house.
Being a honest man I'm just trying to make it out.
But fuck it man... I'm out...



Credits
Writer(s): Martin Karl Sandberg, Herbert St Clair Crichlow
Lyrics powered by www.musixmatch.com

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