Beat the Odds (feat. Saynt Roulette)
All black, ski mask, all you see is teeth Just a young'un tryna make it, scrapin change so he can eat
Gotta walk on tippy toes cause he tryna be discreet
He ain't never had no guidance, had to turn to the streets
To beat the odds, gotta hurt, just to make a name
To beat the odds, gotta hurt, just to play the game
To beat the odds, gotta smoke, just to keep him sane
To beat the odds, gotta drink, just to ease the pain
Roaches on the floor
Water don't get hot
Rats running around
Stains on every sock
Holes in the wall
Look for a escape
Find it in the pussy
Baby on the way
He ain't got no clue
What he supposed to do
But he know about guns, Glock 22
Draco in the back, spent all his cheese Thinking that the gang the only thing that he need
Finna hit a lick, this the last one
Family on his mind, he tryna be done This shit done went sour, now he on the run
Took the SIM out the burner, then he threw the gun
Ain't gon' never have the chance to raise his only son
All black, ski mask, all you see is teeth Just a young'un tryna make it, scrapin change so he can eat
Gotta walk on tippy toes cause he tryna be discreet
He ain't never had no guidance, had to turn to the streets
To beat the odds, gotta hurt, just to make a name
To beat the odds, gotta hurt, just to play the game
To beat the odds, gotta smoke, just to keep him sane
To beat the odds, gotta drink, just to ease the pain
He done beat the odds though, his eyes wide but his eyes low
Don't ask me why though, he from Missouri
Not from Kansas He not that bitch from the Oz bro
Made it through the storm, he a psycho inside the cyclone
His struggle turned to hustle, now he hustle when he struggle
He put three rounds in the air, his revolver taught him to juggle
A ape inside of the jungle
He shove you if you would hug'em
Affection not where he come from
He real good with his words
But vulnerability stumble
He not a athlete but he jump guys
He keep a ski mask but he ain't never heard of slump god
He think his gun is everything, he think that he gon' slump god
If he won't make the heavens, he told me then why would I try
Connecting souls to heaven, he call his chopper the wifi
Now every time his nine pop the sound make his ma cry
Gotta walk on tippy toes cause he tryna be discreet
He ain't never had no guidance, had to turn to the streets
To beat the odds, gotta hurt, just to make a name
To beat the odds, gotta hurt, just to play the game
To beat the odds, gotta smoke, just to keep him sane
To beat the odds, gotta drink, just to ease the pain
Roaches on the floor
Water don't get hot
Rats running around
Stains on every sock
Holes in the wall
Look for a escape
Find it in the pussy
Baby on the way
He ain't got no clue
What he supposed to do
But he know about guns, Glock 22
Draco in the back, spent all his cheese Thinking that the gang the only thing that he need
Finna hit a lick, this the last one
Family on his mind, he tryna be done This shit done went sour, now he on the run
Took the SIM out the burner, then he threw the gun
Ain't gon' never have the chance to raise his only son
All black, ski mask, all you see is teeth Just a young'un tryna make it, scrapin change so he can eat
Gotta walk on tippy toes cause he tryna be discreet
He ain't never had no guidance, had to turn to the streets
To beat the odds, gotta hurt, just to make a name
To beat the odds, gotta hurt, just to play the game
To beat the odds, gotta smoke, just to keep him sane
To beat the odds, gotta drink, just to ease the pain
He done beat the odds though, his eyes wide but his eyes low
Don't ask me why though, he from Missouri
Not from Kansas He not that bitch from the Oz bro
Made it through the storm, he a psycho inside the cyclone
His struggle turned to hustle, now he hustle when he struggle
He put three rounds in the air, his revolver taught him to juggle
A ape inside of the jungle
He shove you if you would hug'em
Affection not where he come from
He real good with his words
But vulnerability stumble
He not a athlete but he jump guys
He keep a ski mask but he ain't never heard of slump god
He think his gun is everything, he think that he gon' slump god
If he won't make the heavens, he told me then why would I try
Connecting souls to heaven, he call his chopper the wifi
Now every time his nine pop the sound make his ma cry
Credits
Writer(s): Carlos Johnson
Lyrics powered by www.musixmatch.com
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