Talking of the gods you serve
Staring at our figures
I cop weed for less of a percentage than i fucking plot seeds
Selling us our own chains. confuse our wants with our needs,
God willing i'll proceed to a good husband
... that our existence is troubled
Niggas hate us, but we famous so i never blame them
Trying to live our lives like our lives are so golden
Homie popped up with about twenty bags and
We teach our future our past
It's ironic cause i always hear you talking about one
Work everyday for the praises, our work our haven
Our love was still there but our minds were lost
Life was diggin’ me deeper, i kept on coming up short
Which gave me the opportunity of standing out straight on my feet above others
Our debt is crazy because our money is just printed numbers
GO BACK TO WRITE A SONG ABOUT ANOTHER TOPIC !
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