Da rucks test

I'm sick and tired of being left out soaking,

makes me feel like I'm distressed and broke.

makes me wanna down a VIC and some cherry coke,

to hide the pain that shows how it is im cent less.

pull up on McMillion's block and cross a name up off the hit list.

then do some dounts in the parking lot of where his crib is,

the syrup is actin like a hypnotist. thinking to myself

"aint no way im gonna win this"

since my body sinking quick as the titanic.

I feel a sense of panic as I pull the pole of the 9,

and watch a body hit the pavement.

not on some gang shit,

but I really need a channel for my anguish.

plans of glory keep on fading, but when im in the studio I

hear the fans and feel the heat of the stage lamps as the beat

drops... I know iv made it.

 

aint no eating out at joes, someone call my mom

and tell her that I am famous.

Since the long nights of sleeping in the studio,

i finally made it im a hip-star now im rising up to greatness.

 

 

used to scrub dishes at the grocery store;

to selling out all my shows tell them hoes.

im noteworthy even more since I rose up off;

the floor and got my Bently parked on the coast,

yelling off the boat " tell them hoes, 4m's a show

" or I just keep on packing bliggs till I feel my lungs collapsing.