Lyrics
Used to wonder, will I ever count a million or obtain 100?
And every time when I went broke I still remained 100
Supported niggas doing good, I never changed or nothing
But why they hate on me? Try to close the gate on me Why do niggas wanna throw they extra dead weight on me Still gon' ride until the wheels flat, until my tank on E When I was the underdog, still I put the bank on me What was there a handful? You ain’t drop no damn jewels
I ain’t get no motivation, they ain’t wanna see me prevail
They ain’t wanna see me in there, they’d rather see me in jail
They don’t want me to be with fans, they’d rather see me with mail
When I grind, I stick to that, now they just see me and yell
Riding Aston-Martins, Vanquishers, flying '72 Chavilles
Flashing money everywhere just so they see me with bail
All the guns I had to load, all the weed we used to sell
Shoulda been a man of Harvard, coulda went to school at Yale
But I chose my own fate, so I may see you in hell
And you know I tell 'em all the time man, that’s all I ever wanted to do is
just be the real me and bring my real life to the audience man, whether they
like it or not. And not for me to be judged or looked at any type of way cause
I know that one day they love you for your own reasons and the next day they
hate you for a decision you made that only affect you. And I still rap and do everything I do for my niggas man and of course my family too but they’ll tell
you the shit that I say to y’all I say to them. No side of me I don’t show
y’all through the music and none of that, I still get the same motivation,
my same motivation. I love my fans, they know I love 'em man, they love me because I bring them me, the real only me, nothing else
They remember I was gang banging in the gang way
So don’t try me if I’m anywhere, I’m still the same way
Nigga you still’ll get flamed up for bringing my name up Sometimes I be cuckoo, still shoot you when I’m famous
All my niggas dangerous, never got my chain tucked
Always got my Rollie on, even when I’m all alone
Draco drum go on and on Break all of your dollar bones
I ain’t tryna work shit out
Ain’t no peace, don’t call the phone
I ain’t really into that, save the stress, I’m tryna go home
Jump right in the game scoring, pacing though, I’m tryna go long
They really tryna chase it here
Four years then be lit
When I die, them folks forget
Man I know this life a bitch
I’m just tryna plan it out
Hit that dough and spread it out
Fuck it, cop my bro a whip
Then go buy my mans a house
Know it come with the gang in it Know it comes with the things in it Baby mamas and mans in it Know you can’t be a lame in it Humble beast man, G Herbo, Swervo. You know it’s strictly for my fans man,
that’s what, that’s really where my brain at, you know? I get the motivation
from my fans and just everybody, just I don’t know this might sound crazy for
me to say, I wish everybody brain operated the way mine do but really just for
people to understand me. Really the people on the outside, my fans,
theres people that can’t understand me, understand shit on a level (?).
Strictly for my fans, my family, for my niggas. Swervo