| Look, I grew up poor but didn’t dream poor |
| I always seen more while peekin' through bullet holes in my screen door |
| Always haunted me when they scream more |
| I’ve seen extreme gore, been in more wars than most of marine corps |
| Yeah, fuck you postin' a meme for? |
| Shit, we win and check out my team score |
| Who ever thought I’d make the age of forty? |
| After Pain & Glory, I was still hidin' work and guns in a jean drawer (Woo!) |
| Ironically, I was cookin', was servin' fiends raw |
| Done seen chalk, talkin' too dirty’ll get you cleaned off |
| Serene thoughts, mind over matter although I seem lost |
| Supreme boss, invested in tech and makin' machines talk (Bla-ouw!) |
| This how the game’s played, rewind and analyze throughout my brainwaves |
| I used to fantasize about cocaine raids |
| In the booth you can hear my chain wave |
| Whippin' a foreign how we remain slaves |
| Play it back and I scream more (Yeah) |
| It’s feelin' like we at a crossroads (Crossroads) |
| I hope we all grow (All grow), pour out some liquor for these lost souls (Yeah) |
| I keep that burner by my torso (Bla-ouw!) |
| And I’m on tour so (Tour so), don’t run up on me like you lost bro (Nah) |
| It’s feelin' like we at a crossroads (Crossroads) |
| I hope we all grow (All grow), pour out some Louie for these lost souls (Yeah) |
| I keep that burner by my torso (Bla-ouw!) |
| And I’m on tour so (Tour so), I pray that 12 don’t get us all bro (Nah) |
| Look, I had a dream to see loot |
| Frustrated teens just turn to casualties on the news |
| From where if you ain’t eat at home, you had to eat it at school |
| Back when mama filled my face with vaseline before school |
| It was hard, we used to struggle with no heat, we were stressed |
| The couch or floor was your bed, gotta sleep fully dressed |
| Just a minor by the time you took ya feet off the steps |
| Now a gat you gotta keep by ya bed, nigga |
| Pistol like (?), trigger finger, aim, spray ya head |
| Concrete where he laid and bled |
| Shooters ask again in case he playin' dead |
| All my shooters got Jamaican dreads |
| On your head I place a bet |
| If you ain’t got my money, bitch, I’m takin' heads |
| Most of these niggas panic in war |
| I got a plan from the Lord to help me handle a storm |
| I watched niggas take a seat and wave they hand to report |
| Pointin' fingers like a poster of Uncle Sam in the port, damn |
| It’s feelin' like we at a crossroads (Crossroads) |
| I hope we all grow (All grow), pour out some liquor for these lost souls (Yeah) |
| I keep that burner by my torso (Bla-ouw!) |
| And I’m on tour so (Tour so), don’t run up on me like you lost bro (Nah) |
| It’s feelin' like we at a crossroads (Crossroads) |
| I hope we all grow (All grow), pour out some Louie for these lost souls (Yeah) |
| I keep that burner by my torso (Bla-ouw!) |
| And I’m on tour so (Tour so), I pray that 12 don’t get us all bro (Nah) |