| 作词 : Maurice Shadee Clarke | |
| 作曲 : Fabrice Ferrando | |
| **** who came the hardest | |
| We do our thing regardless | |
| Regardless of these niggas | |
| Tryna do our own thing | |
| Stayin' true, never into roll playing | |
| Blowin' smoke, probably blow the whole thang | |
| In a room, listenin' to Coltrane | |
| With this elevated mind on a nigga | |
| Yea, 'cause baby daughter gotta eat | |
| Mom's need a break, get up off her feet | |
| Same job, same shit every week | |
| Anotha day to deliver | |
| Elevatin' the mind, spirit, anotha level | |
| Talkin to a nigga like I ain't nobody special | |
| What? But that's an insult to my character | |
| Ain't mad at cha | |
| 'Cause most of this don't matter bruh | |
| My mind is on the up, and up | |
| My mind is on the up, and up | |
| What? | |
| **** all the bullshit, let's make it happen | |
| Ten toes down, two hands, keep it movin' | |
| Gotta pretty little girl out there | |
| Yea, get yours black man | |
| Yea, no excuses | |
| Even though they try to shoot our whole kind dead | |
| All in the head...shit | |
| A closed mouth still don't get, fed | |
| You still got arms and you got legs |
| zuo ci : Maurice Shadee Clarke | |
| zuo qu : Fabrice Ferrando | |
| who came the hardest | |
| We do our thing regardless | |
| Regardless of these niggas | |
| Tryna do our own thing | |
| Stayin' true, never into roll playing | |
| Blowin' smoke, probably blow the whole thang | |
| In a room, listenin' to Coltrane | |
| With this elevated mind on a nigga | |
| Yea, ' cause baby daughter gotta eat | |
| Mom' s need a break, get up off her feet | |
| Same job, same shit every week | |
| Anotha day to deliver | |
| Elevatin' the mind, spirit, anotha level | |
| Talkin to a nigga like I ain' t nobody special | |
| What? But that' s an insult to my character | |
| Ain' t mad at cha | |
| ' Cause most of this don' t matter bruh | |
| My mind is on the up, and up | |
| My mind is on the up, and up | |
| What? | |
| all the bullshit, let' s make it happen | |
| Ten toes down, two hands, keep it movin' | |
| Gotta pretty little girl out there | |
| Yea, get yours black man | |
| Yea, no excuses | |
| Even though they try to shoot our whole kind dead | |
| All in the head. . . shit | |
| A closed mouth still don' t get, fed | |
| You still got arms and you got legs |
| zuò cí : Maurice Shadee Clarke | |
| zuò qǔ : Fabrice Ferrando | |
| who came the hardest | |
| We do our thing regardless | |
| Regardless of these niggas | |
| Tryna do our own thing | |
| Stayin' true, never into roll playing | |
| Blowin' smoke, probably blow the whole thang | |
| In a room, listenin' to Coltrane | |
| With this elevated mind on a nigga | |
| Yea, ' cause baby daughter gotta eat | |
| Mom' s need a break, get up off her feet | |
| Same job, same shit every week | |
| Anotha day to deliver | |
| Elevatin' the mind, spirit, anotha level | |
| Talkin to a nigga like I ain' t nobody special | |
| What? But that' s an insult to my character | |
| Ain' t mad at cha | |
| ' Cause most of this don' t matter bruh | |
| My mind is on the up, and up | |
| My mind is on the up, and up | |
| What? | |
| all the bullshit, let' s make it happen | |
| Ten toes down, two hands, keep it movin' | |
| Gotta pretty little girl out there | |
| Yea, get yours black man | |
| Yea, no excuses | |
| Even though they try to shoot our whole kind dead | |
| All in the head. . . shit | |
| A closed mouth still don' t get, fed | |
| You still got arms and you got legs |
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