by Bobby Creekwater
God, I wonder why niggas still chasing this dream
But it’s been so long, I forgot to read
And see the world fucked up
But I’m still outside with my team
If we get a couple mil we can change the season
Right some wrongs, cut life back on
This a cake for two and if you ate with two
Invest a little bit of money and your people plight
Then kick back and see what they could do
I mean anything can be Gucci, man
New computer, quiet shooter, bad bitches with acquired taste
Their Dominican hair on his favorite hooker
We cruise through and we chose to, new shoes, too, nigga lose the hoop
We ain’t worried about none of that
We just tryina take some of that
Nigga zero, zero, zero, zero, zero, zero, zero, zero, comma, that
Reflect on war shit and make fun of that
Whatever mama want, I’m just on to that
Man, I just want what I feel these sucker niggas owe me
A nigga make his mouth say anything, nigga gotta show me
Nigga pardon my French, but a nigga came up in the projects
The whole world exists when we do it like this, ‘cause we ain’t know yet
And we ain’t care yet, we got wishes, nigga, needs, we ain’t there yet
On top of that, man, life ain’t fair yet
And I ain’t got a couple dollars I can spare yet
Them hoes might not think I’m clear yet
But I keep playing the game, shooting the J, boxing out
So I can be the reason the drops come out
And not move an inch when the cops come out
And not have to worry about my fate
When the whole team eat misfits for plate
And the press going up, let me fix my rate
‘Cause this shit shine, don’t fit my crate
I can run shit easily, nigga, I’m in shape
Not giving a fuck and ambition, hell, that’s all that takes
A whole lot of sins dressed up and make it
All eyes up to the make of the car
I’m watching one of yours run around with a dealer
Please, could you just give a break to us, now?
I promise I wont’ change one more hoe, one more…, one more dough
On the people I love most this ego goes
But fucking with me is an incredible no, no
You know like don’t touch the iron on the stove when it’s on
You know like please don’t read to an MJ song
You know like nigga, you know that car don’t belong on chrome
This Bobby Creekwater, hello Wolf Gang, I’m gone
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