Man, they told me, umMy first-week sales, I had like sixty-some thousand, but they don’t count J-PayHow the fu** you don’t count the realest ni**as, you know what I’m saying?That’s that label shit, fu** that shit (Will-A-Fool)Got kicked out the crib, put a latch on itIt feel good to sleep all in the trap, don’t it?I be hanging ’round killers with racks on meI done made me some plays and put tax on itIt feel good to come all the way back from itWhen you up, they gon’ say that you act funnyYou feel cocky, you actually got moneyFelt neglected when Chino got snatched from me
If you love the streets more than you love your family, you crazyThey love you more, they adore you more ’cause you made itThey turned they back on me, I forgave ’em, I’m crazyThem ni**as gon’ go, them ni**as gon’ roll whenever I say itThem ni**as some hoes, them ni**as some hoes, they don’t get attentionYou would try to ignore when I’m at my lowest, I don’t forgive youI was at my lowest, I couldn’t afford it, I was so miserableI was ditchin’ school, mixing lean and juice, I was off chemicalsI ain’t got a choice, I got a voice, this shit difficultWaking up to three million dollars cash, that shit a miracleCan’t let a bi**h put me on blast, I’m too spiritualThey say I gotta let go of the past, I ain’t hearing you