die real
Listen nigga I ain't trynna preach
Just don't want you to go through what happen to me
Better get you some money
And stay out the streets
How the fuck is you broke
And you still trynna beef
I'm the plug I can't be outta reach
Motion pulling me in but I just wanna leave
I should focus on music and put on the team
But I just did a whole quarter brick in a week
Wide receiver my pain running deep
I got blood sweat and tears in these streets
I got blood sweat and tears in the studio
Make a hit then I smash on a groupie hoe
Make a hit then I jump in the trap
Music cost gotta make this shit back
Thinkin millions I can not relax
Lost it all you can hear when I rap
In the trenches you know it get critical baby
I gotta keep me a stick or two baby
Pockets crippin
I might throw some Rick on you baby
Just fuck me good and it's lit for you baby
Yea yea (yea yea)
Yea yea (yea yea)
Yea yea (yea yea)
These niggas don't know how it feel
To walk through the streets
And them boys want you kilt.
I can't do no fake love
Yea I prolly die from keeping it real
When I mix Molly with the Xans it's just something else about it it give me the chills
Jumped out the trap and I flew to the hills
Real Rockstar I might die on these pills
Let's turn up you only got one life to live
Just don't want you to go through what happen to me
Better get you some money
And stay out the streets
How the fuck is you broke
And you still trynna beef
I'm the plug I can't be outta reach
Motion pulling me in but I just wanna leave
I should focus on music and put on the team
But I just did a whole quarter brick in a week
Wide receiver my pain running deep
I got blood sweat and tears in these streets
I got blood sweat and tears in the studio
Make a hit then I smash on a groupie hoe
Make a hit then I jump in the trap
Music cost gotta make this shit back
Thinkin millions I can not relax
Lost it all you can hear when I rap
In the trenches you know it get critical baby
I gotta keep me a stick or two baby
Pockets crippin
I might throw some Rick on you baby
Just fuck me good and it's lit for you baby
Yea yea (yea yea)
Yea yea (yea yea)
Yea yea (yea yea)
These niggas don't know how it feel
To walk through the streets
And them boys want you kilt.
I can't do no fake love
Yea I prolly die from keeping it real
When I mix Molly with the Xans it's just something else about it it give me the chills
Jumped out the trap and I flew to the hills
Real Rockstar I might die on these pills
Let's turn up you only got one life to live
Credits
Writer(s): Marquis Morton
Lyrics powered by www.musixmatch.com
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