Lyrics

Rest in peace Machine Gun Black Rest in peace, Lil Damo Ay yo, niggas always ask me like Why am I talkin' extra shit I say I rap like this 'cause I'm tryna keep you outta prison (real shit) Fuck the radio, I'm tryna keep you out here livin', my nigga Listen my nigga, tell me you are truth (These are the real Sopranos) Yo, if it don't affect us, we never paid much attention We busy, stuck in our ways, still slaves of tradition Boys to men quick 'cause we was raised in the system Worshippin' false Gods from a made up religion Most of my close friends caught felonies in they teens You either in or out, there's never no in between Never wanted much, just longevity for the team Could have went to Harvard, funny my specialty was the fiends Gold on my neck, that's what they expect from us, we kings Got ya bitch for a pet, she just wanted to please When she around, we don't talk checks, numbers and things That's family business, we don't address none 'til she leave Uhh, when you a hustla, ain't nothin' ever out of reach When I count a milli up, that's when I'ma sleep Until then, I got a seat for who got it cheap I heard they 21 in Atlanta just like Dominique Wilkins, ahh Sometimes friends turn to foes I can make halves turn to wholes I pray my ideas turn to gold These the confessions of a burnin' soul The mirror tell me that I'm turnin' old Stress on me, the street shit done turned us cold Uhh, movie shit; I had to earn a role These the confessions of a-, these the confessions of a- Ahh, you only the realest when I'm not in the room My mother always told me not to assume (real shit) And I got this far abidin' the rules A block with a groove, a Glock, pot and spoon Uhh, I know she worried when I don't call her for weeks Caught in the streets, I think about her fallin' asleep Her oldest dead, her youngest locked up, callin' to speak She taught it to me, so she know, it's part of the streets Fatherless seeds, grow up to be robbers and thieves Bloodthirsty killers with a carnivorous greed Street chronicles, we honorable thieves Started off coppin' coke, hope we don't end up gettin' conjugal V's Uhh, real shit, you already know what I'm into Real things, that's what real men do I put a mask on my face if my rent due I'm just happy I don't look like what I've been through, uhh Sometimes friends turn to foes I can make halves turn to wholes I pray my ideas turn to gold These the confessions of a burnin' soul The mirror tell me that I'm turnin' old Stress on me, the street shit done turned us cold Uhh, movie shit; I had to earn a role These the confessions of a-, these the confessions of a- (ugh) This is a true story of extreme violence, brutality, fear
Writer(s): Jeremie Scorpio Pennick Lyrics powered by www.musixmatch.com
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