VII, Pt. 2

This that feel good music v2 now can you feel it
Fuck with me or die slow
Since a snot nose had my sight on a pot of gold
Ran into a couple roadblocks that's how the dice rolled
Got the game from my mama no father figure
You see a difference
Best believe she was harder than most of you niggas
At the crib with the weed base or blow
Kept a roof on our head it's no place like home

Fresh off the porch no shoe laces
Just bare feet young nigga from fifteen
My face good in the streets
Bro paved the way for me
All them late nights trapping and trafficking trap star
Book and release him he back at it like crack addicts
Jump rabbits doing mathematics in them back alleys
Just for a pair of the latest some call it crazy
But if you look at it from his standpoint he had a point
But I can't get up in them details
Cause everybody got secrets tucked in like seashells
Even Hilary got the Feds up in her emails
And everybody dropping dimes like it's fine
I ain't lying so help me God
They snitching with no regards
Back then niggas was hard now they lack heart
OGs only can feel me shout them real niggas
Shout them real niggas I had to say twice
Paying homage predecessors like Usher these my confessions
Since adolescence they professions taught me lessons
And I'm still going the money is still growing
Left them haters in the womb they dead stillborn
And it's Oneway till the death of me
Loyalty is the recipe
Fifteen hundred sixteen hundred nigga we run it
And it's Oneway till the death of me
Loyalty is the recipe
Fifteen hundred sixteen hundred nigga we run it



Credits
Writer(s): Chay Gordon
Lyrics powered by www.musixmatch.com

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