Music Video

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Listen to The Sun's Tirade by Isaiah Rashad
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Listen to City Walk featuring Isaiah Rashad
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Listen to blonded 003 featuring Isaiah Rashad
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Listen to Steve Lacy: The Producers featuring Isaiah Rashad
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Listen to Ep. 6 Echo Chamber Playlist featuring Isaiah Rashad
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Listen to Ep. 27 The Pharmacy Playlist featuring Isaiah Rashad
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Listen to Ep. 39 OTHERtone Playlist featuring Isaiah Rashad
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Listen to Ep. 59 WRTJ Playlist featuring Isaiah Rashad
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Listen to Zacari: The Songwriters featuring Isaiah Rashad
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Listen to The Rap that Shaped Wang Yitai featuring Isaiah Rashad
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Listen to Ep. 3 Baauer Studio B Playlist featuring Isaiah Rashad
PLAYLISTEp. 3 Baauer Studio B PlaylistBaauer's Studio B

Credits

PERFORMING ARTISTS
Isaiah Rashad
Isaiah Rashad
Vocals
Carter Lang
Carter Lang
Bass
D. SANDERS
D. SANDERS
Keyboards
Terrace Martin
Terrace Martin
Saxophone
COMPOSITION & LYRICS
Isaiah Rashad McClain
Isaiah Rashad McClain
Songwriter
PRODUCTION & ENGINEERING
Chris Calor
Chris Calor
Producer

Lyrics

Uh, uhm, yeah, uh-huh Uhm, yeah, uhm, this a room I got two cigarettes to my last name I clock in for the check but I don't wanna go I got two cigarettes to my last name I clock in for the check but I don't wanna go She said you, you can't save em all She said you, you can't save em all, yeah She said you, you can't save em all, yeah I mix a gallon of the gallon in a gallon of that And down that in your Nissan for the memory For the energy, for the Tennessee Fam called work all work just to visit me I bought an ounce just to fuck with you He don't take no hand outs, he don't take no hand outs Remember what my poppa told me Remember what my poppa told me Trust inward, trust in ya, my nigga, my friend of Last of the divine livin' So timid, all on us Dog on it, they would laugh at the small moments Then call on us Like who had you on your bad day? Who dropped you at that bitch house? Like back when we was little I was just an instrumental Now I'm Malcolm in a million We talked about a billion We talked about our feelin's We kept it more than realest And look at how the path came Took it for the rap fam Would ya give ya all to the world The work, work, and left hurt? Shit and what's worse She too tired to talk, lately your thumbs hurt We miss love and sex bridgin' your son's birth 21 hurts in court by 24, boy You can't save 'em all She said you, you-you, you can't save 'em all, um She said you, you-you, you can't save 'em all, um I write pissed ass livin', fuck that shit Fuck call centers, fuck is this really growin' up my nigga? Tax on your motherfuckin' nuts my nigga 1025 what the fuck can a nigga do with 1025? Plus your weed habit plus my weed habit and your weed habit For free givin' we livin' with a weed daddy, two kids Mix that Boosie with that boom-bap You rap like you need money like you don't love this My shit chewed up your jury before you judged this Pull up, lick on my dick like ain't it gorgeous For those that can't afford this It be like I got, I got I got my own world, I got my own mind Day dreamin' for a lunch break for my son's sake On the run for the fun's sake I clock in for the check but I don't wanna go I clock in for the check but I don't wanna go You, you can't save em all
Writer(s): Chris Calor, Isiah Mcclain Lyrics powered by www.musixmatch.com
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