Dedication
This is a Utopix production
Running' duckin' law, smoker got no wind
Pull up on 'em, pull the trigger, shoot, is he dead
And no one for that, one for them, is you scared
If I get back in that jam, I'm goin' fed, yeah yeah
Stress politician, lil' cousin fucked up, want me to pay tuition
I'm so moody off medication, this shit hard work and dedication
Granny call me a devil, ran the streets all night
I ain't really got no levels all my bitches all type
These niggas ain't count no check, these lil' niggas be all hype
I was fucked up now I'm back, told 'em I'ma be all right
Top ten flow, ballin' like I'm Kriss Dunn
I say Chicago, pick a gun like which one
You ain't ever live in a crib with a junkie
Goin' to sleep, gotta hide your money
Wasn't no food, gotta hold my tummy
Jumped in the streets, ain't talkin' 'bout my rookie
Couldn't keep no joggers, I was clumsy
And I told my teacher I wasn't no trouble
And I hate when a fake nigga say he love you
I grew up different, I'm from the city of Al Capone
I got caught stealin', them people say that I grew up wrong
Don't blame me, blame poverty
Thirsty to get out and want my property
Fast seven think about robbin' me
You gon' have some wings like them Robin jeans
Running' duckin' law, smoker got no wind
Pull up on 'em, pull the trigger, shoot, is he dead
And no one for that, one for them, is you scared
If I get back in that jam, I'm goin' fed, yeah yeah
Stress politician, lil' cousin fucked up, want me to pay tuition
I'm so moody off medication, this shit hard work and dedication
Running' duckin' law, smoker got no wind
Pull up on 'em, pull the trigger, shoot, is he dead
And no one for that, one for them, is you scared
If I get back in that jam, I'm goin' fed, yeah yeah
Stress politician, lil' cousin fucked up, want me to pay tuition
I'm so moody off medication, this shit hard work and dedication
Granny call me a devil, ran the streets all night
I ain't really got no levels all my bitches all type
These niggas ain't count no check, these lil' niggas be all hype
I was fucked up now I'm back, told 'em I'ma be all right
Top ten flow, ballin' like I'm Kriss Dunn
I say Chicago, pick a gun like which one
You ain't ever live in a crib with a junkie
Goin' to sleep, gotta hide your money
Wasn't no food, gotta hold my tummy
Jumped in the streets, ain't talkin' 'bout my rookie
Couldn't keep no joggers, I was clumsy
And I told my teacher I wasn't no trouble
And I hate when a fake nigga say he love you
I grew up different, I'm from the city of Al Capone
I got caught stealin', them people say that I grew up wrong
Don't blame me, blame poverty
Thirsty to get out and want my property
Fast seven think about robbin' me
You gon' have some wings like them Robin jeans
Running' duckin' law, smoker got no wind
Pull up on 'em, pull the trigger, shoot, is he dead
And no one for that, one for them, is you scared
If I get back in that jam, I'm goin' fed, yeah yeah
Stress politician, lil' cousin fucked up, want me to pay tuition
I'm so moody off medication, this shit hard work and dedication
Credits
Writer(s): Andrew Hill
Lyrics powered by www.musixmatch.com
Link
© 2024 All rights reserved. Rockol.com S.r.l. Website image policy
Rockol
- Rockol only uses images and photos made available for promotional purposes (“for press use”) by record companies, artist managements and p.r. agencies.
- Said images are used to exert a right to report and a finality of the criticism, in a degraded mode compliant to copyright laws, and exclusively inclosed in our own informative content.
- Only non-exclusive images addressed to newspaper use and, in general, copyright-free are accepted.
- Live photos are published when licensed by photographers whose copyright is quoted.
- Rockol is available to pay the right holder a fair fee should a published image’s author be unknown at the time of publishing.
Feedback
Please immediately report the presence of images possibly not compliant with the above cases so as to quickly verify an improper use: where confirmed, we would immediately proceed to their removal.