| That nigga eating why he ain’t hand us a plate |
| How he sign a deal and ain’t make sure his family straight |
| How come he don’t come around why he don’t pick up the phone |
| Why the fuck he act like he did all this shit on his own |
| Why he don’t let nobody visit his home |
| Why he so distant |
| How I knew the moment he blew he would switch up in an instant |
| Why I ain’t seen his daughters since they was infants |
| How he not gon get his mom and them a whip but spent a grip on a pendant |
| They should be offended |
| I knew he was selfish to begin with |
| I’m long winded, so this where I’ma end it |
| That’s his money I ain’t gon tell dat nigga how to spend it |
| But give me back my 2 cents I’m lended |
| Family |
| Man that nigga must think he too good to sit around and hang |
| I done knew his ass since middle school now this nigga found some fame |
| I always knew shit was bound to change |
| I woulda walked a nigga down for gang |
| Used to call em my dawg now that shit don’t sound the same |
| We used to hit the mall and pull hoes |
| Any nigga that stepped he got bulldozed |
| Coppin' ounces swapping out our school clothes |
| That fool know |
| But now I guess he posed to be the man |
| I’ll be god damned if I ever approach him as a fan |
| So I don’t comment on or like the shit he be posting on the gram |
| Like he been too focused on a plan with hopes he can expand |
| Bitch I get money too, I’m boomin' off of dope coke and zans |
| Oh shit what up Grip I was just telling them how close to you I am |
| Friends |
| The whole world got me fucked up |
| So I’ma tell them what’s what |
| Got enough bucks for my car not to put put |
| But not enough to escape the surroundings that they found me in |
| And niggas round here ain’t too fond of niggas that’s bound to win |
| Paranoia times ten this shits deep |
| They catch me slipping I’ll be 6 feet |
| Counting big sheep while mom and kids weep |
| Fixate on home invasions 40 cal by the mattress |
| The only time I feel safe when I’m surrounded by ratchets |
| Still drowning in habits |
| Trying to balance my axis |
| Owe 10s of thousands in taxes |
| But gotta smile for the masses |
| And family members that question my logic |
| Feel like I owe them a percentage of the checks I deposit |
| Ain’t give a fuck when I had the studio setup on a desk in the closet |
| Straight from IKEA laying down ideas |
| They ain’t know this shit been bubbling for like 5 years |
| Had to thug it we was struggling I done cried tears |
| If Ruth was here she’ll be like dry your eyes dear |
| I defied fears |
| I can’t confide in my peers |
| When something’s grinding my gears or need advice |
| Maybe shed some insight into my career |
| Cause my niggas can’t relate |
| Any convo we have about rap is a damn debate |
| And the ones who do act like you gon take the food off they plate |
| Play it cool in your face and put they number in your phone |
| Shoot 'em a text they never respond I should’ve known |
| But fuck it, niggas is grown so I’m tugging it on my own |
| Got like a million thoughts that I’m juggling in my dome |
| And that spills into my everyday life |
| Busy and bothered unfit father uncanny candidate for a wife |
| Overly focused on positions that I need to be in |
| Not takin' heed of my wins |
| An absentee to my friends |
| Social media want me to pretend |
| But I ain’t faking the funk |
| I wrote this shit while I was taking a dump |
| Kyle |