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It Ain't Easy |
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Keepin it real |
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I take a shot of Henessey now I'm strong enough to face the madness |
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Nickel bag full of sess weed laced with hash |
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Phone calls from my niggaz on the, other side |
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Two childhood friends just died, I couldn't cry |
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A damn shame, when will we ever change |
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And what remains from a twelve gauge to the brain |
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Arguements with my Boo is true |
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I spend mo' time with my niggaz than I do with you |
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But everywhere it's the same thang, that's the game |
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I'll be damned if a thang changed, fuck the fame |
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I'll be hustling to make a mill-ion, lord knows |
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Ain't no love for us ghetto children, so we cold |
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Rag top slowin down, time to stop for gas |
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Beep my horn for a hoochie with a proper ass, uhh |
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It ain't easy, that's my motto |
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Drinkin Tanqueray straight out the bottle |
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Everybody wanna know if I'm insane |
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My baby mama gotta mind full of silly games |
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And all the drama got me stressin like I'm hopeless, I can't cope |
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Me and the homies smokin roaches, cause we broke |
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Late night hangin out til the sunrise gettin high |
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Watchin the cops roll by |
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It ain't easy... that's right |
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It ain't easy, being me |
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Will I see the penitentiary, or will I stay free |
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I can't sleep niggaz plottin on to kill me while I'm dreamin |
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Wake up sweaty and screamin, cause I can hear them suckers schemin |
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Probably paranoid, problem is, them punks be fantasizin |
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A brother bite the bullet, open fire and I died |
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I wonder why this the way it is, even now |
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Lookin out for these killer kids, cause they wild |
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Bill Clinton can you recognize a nigga representin |
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Doin twenty to life in San Quentin |
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Gettin calls from my nigga Mike Tyson, ain't nuttin nice |
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Yo 'Pac, do something righteous witcha life |
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And even thou you innocent you still a nigga, so they figure |
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Rather have you behind bars than triggers |
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But I'm hold ya down and holla Thug Life, lickin shots |
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Til I see my niggaz free on the block |
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But no it ain't easy, hahahah |
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Til I see my niggaz free, on the block, oh |
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It ain't easy |
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Lately been reminiscin |
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bout Peppermint Schnapps in Junior High hit the block |
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Keep an eye on the cops while D-Boys slang rocks |
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It's the project kid without a conscience, I'm havin dreams |
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of hearin screams at my concerts, me all my childhood peers |
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through the years tryin to stack a little green |
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I was only seventeen, when I started servin fiends |
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And I wish there was another way to stack a dollar |
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So my apoli', casue these hard times make me wanna holler |
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Will I live to see tommorrow, am I fallin off? |
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I hit the weed and then proceed to say fuck all of y'all |
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Ain't nobody down with me I'm thuggin, I can't go home |
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Cause muh-fuckers think I'm buggin, so now I'm in |
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this high powered cell at the county jail |
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Punk judge got a grudge, can't post no bail, what |
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do I do in these county blues |
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Gettin battered and bruised by the you know who |
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And these fakes get to shakin when they face me |
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Snakes ain't got enough nuts to replace me |
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Sittin in this, livin hell, listenin to niggaz yell |
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Tryin to torture em to tell, I'm gettin mail |
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But ain't nobody sayin much, the same old nuts |
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is makin bucks while these sluts is gettin fucked |
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They violated my probation, and it seems |
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I'll be goin on a long vacation, meanwhile |
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It ain't easy |
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No it ain't easy |
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