Good Dude
Check
Ayo, P. Soul I swear you got me feeling like Jay-Z in this motherfucker
(My momma always taught me to be good - be a good dude...)
Yeah, check
Yeah, Uh
I swear mamma raised a good dude, but I've been a damn fool
I've been struggling to swim, drowning in this lust pool
In and out of girls rooms, quicker than some fast food
Sold drugs in the dorm room, before I dropped out of school
The lover in me, wants a family
But underneath the artist in me feeds off tragedy and casualties
Adultery, it's sad to me
How I feed off tragedy
I'd rather be alone in my world, then to lose to love again
Lose another friend, write another song
Watch the cycle begin another friend gone in the wind
I try to pretend like it don't affect me
Take it out on my girl now she don't respect me
Wear my emotions like a logo on a shirt
Cus I've been pushed around, face in the dirt
Came home bloody, no blood on my shirt
Just tears in my eyes; blood from the hurt
(You know my parents, they uh you know they went to good schools shit
They ain't raise me to be no thug or nothin - like)
But it's fucking hard to quit, when you know I can flip a 4 into 6
A 6 into a 12, and then a 12 to 24 and
I'm about to be 24 and I would lie if I said I wasn't scared though
But now I'm looking to the future, and I see
Shits very clear, got the Visine
Yeah, you know how we do round this time of the year
If Noski balling, then we winning this year
Back in highschool the coach slept on me
I would come in and drop like 4, 5 threes
Then he sit my ass down after playing hard for the rotation
Nigga, fuck the rotation, nigga fuck politics, I was balling bitch!
Couldn't you see?
Now I bet they see, I bet they grieve sleeping on me
(Hope you got a mattress right there where you sleeping on me
Hope you sucking dick right there where you talking bout me
Fucking bitch)
That was the attitude I had...
Ain't no point man, life too short
It's all about this money
Well alright
Yeah, and that's right
Who am I to point the finger, who am I when I want a Beamer?
Who am I when the odds ain't in your favor, 9 to 5 or this fast paper?
And I bet I take her all the way home like I'm a player for the majors and-
When you was looking for savior, I went and saved them
Execute every opportunity that he gave him
'Hustle' got a mind of its own, might need to name him
It's a whole 'nother world out here its bound to change him
Young nigga with ambition, y'all used to flame him
Impacting the world like I'm LeBron James, bitch!
My nigga D-Wade, y'all John Lucas jumping these hurdles like John Lucas
And y'all niggas hoes y'all Respucia's
And shorty poke that ass out when she ride like she on a scooter
We inspired, you admired
Why they hate? Probably cause I'm wise, probably cause I'm fly
No shit, no manure, thank God for the shit we maneuver through
Thank God for the shit we overcome, thank God for the shit we maneuver through
Thank God for the shit that we overcome
(Thank God for the shit we maneuver through
Thank God for the shit that we overcome...)
Ayo, P. Soul I swear you got me feeling like Jay-Z in this motherfucker
(My momma always taught me to be good - be a good dude...)
Yeah, check
Yeah, Uh
I swear mamma raised a good dude, but I've been a damn fool
I've been struggling to swim, drowning in this lust pool
In and out of girls rooms, quicker than some fast food
Sold drugs in the dorm room, before I dropped out of school
The lover in me, wants a family
But underneath the artist in me feeds off tragedy and casualties
Adultery, it's sad to me
How I feed off tragedy
I'd rather be alone in my world, then to lose to love again
Lose another friend, write another song
Watch the cycle begin another friend gone in the wind
I try to pretend like it don't affect me
Take it out on my girl now she don't respect me
Wear my emotions like a logo on a shirt
Cus I've been pushed around, face in the dirt
Came home bloody, no blood on my shirt
Just tears in my eyes; blood from the hurt
(You know my parents, they uh you know they went to good schools shit
They ain't raise me to be no thug or nothin - like)
But it's fucking hard to quit, when you know I can flip a 4 into 6
A 6 into a 12, and then a 12 to 24 and
I'm about to be 24 and I would lie if I said I wasn't scared though
But now I'm looking to the future, and I see
Shits very clear, got the Visine
Yeah, you know how we do round this time of the year
If Noski balling, then we winning this year
Back in highschool the coach slept on me
I would come in and drop like 4, 5 threes
Then he sit my ass down after playing hard for the rotation
Nigga, fuck the rotation, nigga fuck politics, I was balling bitch!
Couldn't you see?
Now I bet they see, I bet they grieve sleeping on me
(Hope you got a mattress right there where you sleeping on me
Hope you sucking dick right there where you talking bout me
Fucking bitch)
That was the attitude I had...
Ain't no point man, life too short
It's all about this money
Well alright
Yeah, and that's right
Who am I to point the finger, who am I when I want a Beamer?
Who am I when the odds ain't in your favor, 9 to 5 or this fast paper?
And I bet I take her all the way home like I'm a player for the majors and-
When you was looking for savior, I went and saved them
Execute every opportunity that he gave him
'Hustle' got a mind of its own, might need to name him
It's a whole 'nother world out here its bound to change him
Young nigga with ambition, y'all used to flame him
Impacting the world like I'm LeBron James, bitch!
My nigga D-Wade, y'all John Lucas jumping these hurdles like John Lucas
And y'all niggas hoes y'all Respucia's
And shorty poke that ass out when she ride like she on a scooter
We inspired, you admired
Why they hate? Probably cause I'm wise, probably cause I'm fly
No shit, no manure, thank God for the shit we maneuver through
Thank God for the shit we overcome, thank God for the shit we maneuver through
Thank God for the shit that we overcome
(Thank God for the shit we maneuver through
Thank God for the shit that we overcome...)
Credits
Writer(s): Ian Powell
Lyrics powered by www.musixmatch.com
Link
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