Lyrics
Twenty points, five blocks, what I average a game
Twelve assists, most of those go to Atticus Lane, I might
Lob pass it to Cleff, he only 5'9
So he throws it off the glass to MAUREY9DIME
They be like "Gene, how you rap AND fight crime?"
Audemars in Easter eggs, boy I find time
That sounds like just another Sunday at Puff's house
I'm handed Ciroc and a rack as I duck out
Good God, what a life I live
All I'm really missing now is a wife and kids
And a big backyard with a dog to run around in it
Looking up at it, not a cloud it in
Still I wonder why my nation's such a circus
So I checked the oval office, ain't no wonder, it's a clown in it
Looks like his red nose dye got in in his hair gel
Pushing these crackers to try me because I'm caramel
Let it be known that I fear no man
And I got love for VA, boy, I fear no clan, they just
A bunch of white boys tryna be you
Michelle Obama, Meagan Good, Zendaya, now those are fine people
I had a whole list of names for that last bar
But they ain't tryna go with a rodie, Don Cheadle
I wrote this on the clock, hands dirty, neck aching
Tryna make a dime stretch, pocket full of pine needles
Currently I'm still pushing the '02 Corrolla
I hope I get to hear this back in a new Corrolla
But I ain't pressed, I'm blessed and my job legal
I keep it whatever twenty time five equals
I keep it thorough like Havoc and Prod
Life is more than just having a job, see
I stopped chasing checks and I started chasing after a God
All this time, I guess I had it inside, ask my dad and my mom
2008, they asked me what my plans were
A twelve-year-old Gene didn't have an answer
My brother, a baller, my sister, on the honor roll
I felt like I wasn't living up to the standard
The black sheep of the fam until I started writing
Over rap beats for the fans, I have be an example
For young ones striving to feed their loved ones
Instead of making them eat from my hand, death to self
By the way, by the summer, you'll have the rest of Self
I just needed a breather, see I had to rest myself
Caught a lil bit of writers block, tires popped, but
I do what I gotta do with whatever deck I'm dealt
I felt some type of way when y'all hit me about the song length
And I get it, I really do, them joints long
But y'all worried bout how many points y'all can score
I'm more concerned with what basket I score my points on
Understand, my work will outlive me
Legacy, who's Walt without Mickey?
And what's faith without works?
I'll outwork anybody, ain't no doubt in me
Word up
(Yup)
Writer(s): Eugenius
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