Music Video

Credits

PERFORMING ARTISTS
Meek Mill
Meek Mill
Vocals
Larrance Dopson
Larrance Dopson
Keyboards
Dammo Farmer
Dammo Farmer
Bass Guitar
Chris Payton
Chris Payton
Guitar
Dario Omanovic
Dario Omanovic
Programming
TAYLOR KHYRIE
TAYLOR KHYRIE
Keyboards
Toney Fountaine
Toney Fountaine
Sampled Artist
COMPOSITION & LYRICS
Dario Omanovic
Dario Omanovic
Songwriter
Larrance Dopson
Larrance Dopson
Songwriter
Toney Fountaine
Toney Fountaine
Songwriter
Robert Rihmeek Williams
Robert Rihmeek Williams
Songwriter
PRODUCTION & ENGINEERING
Dario Omanovic
Dario Omanovic
Producer
Larrance Dopson
Larrance Dopson
Co-Producer
Alex Estevez
Alex Estevez
Engineer
Lou Carrao
Lou Carrao
Engineer
Steven Xia
Steven Xia
Engineer
Colin Leonard
Colin Leonard
Mastering Engineer
Gimel "Young Guru" Keaton
Gimel "Young Guru" Keaton
Mixing Engineer
Dylan Del Olmo
Dylan Del Olmo
Recording Engineer
Anthony Cruz
Anthony Cruz
Recording Engineer

Lyrics

Yeah, uh All the youngins in my hood Popping percs now Gettin' high to get by, it's gettin' worse now You gotta tell 'em put them guns and the percs down Them new jails got ten yards in 'em And that's your first down, uh And I ain't come here to preach I just had to say somethin' 'Cause I'm the one with the reach Youngin' got a quarter ounce He tryna turn into Meech Ain't had no daddy He's had to learn from the streets I used to be a honor roll student, damn Then I turned to a beast The first time I seen a nigga get Some blood on his sneaks He had on Air Max 93s but was slumped in the street His mama cryin', that did somethin' to me, oh Lord The shit I'm doin' for my hood I won't get an award I used to sell Reggie, damn, how I get to the Forbes? I take a shot, if I miss, I'm gettin' 'em boards Ain't quittin' no more, like give me some more We went Old Navy it felt like Christian Dior Was dead broke but rich in soul Was we really that poor? Was we really that dumb? 'Cause we carry a gun And every nigga in my neighborhood carryin' one 'Cause we had nightmares of our mamas Got to bury her son I'm speakin' to you as a prophet As rare as they come, uh Gunshots sound like music hangin' out the Buick Why you wanna be a shooter? Mama told me not to do it but I did it Now I'm locked up in a prison Callin' mama like I shouldn't have did it Watch my dream shatter in an instant I'm on a visit posin' for the picture Like I'm going for my prom or somethin' Like I ain't facing time or somethin' Ride for these niggas like that shit Ain't hurt my mom or somethin' Only one gon' get me commissary Or even buy me somethin' When it all fall down I can't call y'all now Even if I hit your phone That won't get me home Seen so many different times These niggas did me wrong Shit that's the reason that I did this song Shit we was kids used to play on the step A couple years later we flirtin' with the angel of death I was 11 years old, I got my hands on the TEC When I first touched it that shit gave me a rush My homie's dying I'm like, maybe we next That just made me a threat Knowin' the niggas smoke my daddy It just made me upset Made me a man shit I was five When God gave me my test Go to court with a court appointed And he won't say he objects Now it's you against the state And you ain't got no cake Jail overpopulated they ain't got no space I know a youngin' that got murked Ain't get to drive no Wraith But he in hearse on the way to church I know his mom gon' faint When she smell like embalment fluid Cologne all on her baby Pastor said he sendin' you home, she goin' crazy When they drop that casket all in the ground Who gon' save me? How could you blame me? When I'm tryna stay alive and just survive And beat them odds When niggas die by twenty-five When I stop fearin' for my life When I decide to change my mind and stop totin' Tryna smoke the pain away They lock us up for smoking Put 'em on probation Lock 'em up if you ain't perfect Victim to the system like a rain drop in the ocean They closin' all the schools and all the prisons gettin' open Yeah See comin' from where I come from We had to beat the streets Beat the system, beat racism, beat poverty And now we made it through all that We at the championship
Writer(s): Robert Rihmeek Williams, Larrance Dopson, Dario Omanovic, Toney Fountaine Lyrics powered by www.musixmatch.com
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