May life be a trip,
I never knew things could ever get bad
Is it y 'all don't know my 17 shot
clock with extra clips
That's it, I'm going all out,
and if I die, they'll remember me
Cause in these last days,
I'm feeling like
I'ma hit the penitentiary
For real, trying to deal with
this everyday struggle
You gotta get up, or fuck your rump, baby
And hustle, I tussle, and work my muscle
And bounce hard, take what's mine
And still scream that fuck
down if I can't ball
They better lock me up,
shackle down, handcuff
On sight, I'm a boss, what's up?
When you're nuts,
I can rush to the head
Love for life,
motherfucker till I'm dead
Mr. 3 -2, boss of all bosses
And I ain't toleratin' no losses
And no excuses,
cause this world is so shy
Street gang forever,
and it's like that for life, nigga
Will I ever see the stage again?
Radio
DJs don't respect my rhythm
Feelin' like I'm finna hit the bin again
What will I do for food?
Liv in' in the ghetto,
turnin' boys to men
Crooked cops and killers in the rub,
my bitch
I was born on a fucked up day
Had to be holidays with
a number of frowns
on my face
The sadness brought madness
to a family that
was built
Unconsciously I love them
but subconsciously
Running these streets, living cau tiously
It's costing me way too much
But the slumps got me jackin'
if it's worth somethin'
Seclusive or I hurt somethin'
Inhale, exhale, okay
I promise things gon' get better
Just give me one more day
So I can work my jelly,
spread the love around
Swallow so much shit it hurt my belly,
but tryna stay down
Stay focused on what I'm tryna accomplish,
and not be a compass
Stay real, stay true, stay doozy,
don't become a victim of some mob shit
I never let this misery push me
to do something that I regret
But just know that you in danger,
I want you to feel my anger
And if I ever feel like I'm in danger,
I'ma empty the chamber
Will I ever see the stage again?
Radio
DJs don't respect my rhythm
I'm feelin' like I'm finna
hit the pen again
What will I do for food?
Livin' in the ghetto,
turnin' boys to men
Crooked cops and killers
interrupt my mission
Tell me, will I ever build my pen again?
Hustlin' is all I can do
These motherfuckers want me dead
At least that's how it seems to be
An army of motherfuckers against me,
Demon
E
Who you gon' call when my camaraderie
comes down like rain?
Nothin' but revenge to keep me sane
It ain't nothin' like pain
Cause when I squeeze and then you bleed,
satisfaction is guaranteed
Black hearted, it was since the first murder,
how precious is my breed?
You what mean?
Fuck all my foes, fuck all my friends
Unless I'm in a pen,
I've got nobody to call my kin
Cause all the real niggas are dead or in jail
But I've been left to
struggle for success
Trying to get a check from
Southwest wholesale
Look at all the 16's that I've wrecked,
and I'm practically poor
On top of that I'm homeless,
my niggas don't want me no more
Fuck spending ten to get in,
these motherfuckers act like they don't know my face
Better remember I'm crazy clicking,
nigga don't act like you don't know my pace
For buck rappin' I need
some right now money
It's gettin' crucial if I pay my pen
I gotta wait three months, betray me,
scratch for much money
Late night, the siren seems so loud
I hope that I can lose this crowd
Lately, it go down that way
That's why a nigga put to
get the cayenne spray
We could've been so through together
But because of a shortage on my cheddar
I had to get up and bleed the fly
And it don't stop
Will I ever see the stage again?
Radio
DJs don't respect my rhythm
Feelin' like I'm finna hit the pen again
What will I do for food?
Livin' in the ghetto,
turnin' boys to me
Crooked cops and killers in
ter rupt my mission
Tell me, will I ever feel my
pen again?
Hustlin' is all I can do
Z-ro 
