Lyrics

Sassin, I got a story for y'all, so listen up

Fiends jump out the window cuz they cracked up
Young boy on the block pushing to get stacked up
He want the j's and designer belts his mom can't afford
Father missing from the home 94 accord
Is what the mother drives whip on its way out
Work at her job slow she gotta sit some days out
That means she ain't getting paid nothing for them off days
Son toting drugs pistols living the foul way
All he knows is the streets yea that quick hustle
Ain't talking basketball on the block making trouble
Popping niggas left and right treating lives like a bubble
Cuz he threatened by death tryna make it out the struggle

Awwwww this aint fair the way they do me(the way they do me)
Awwwww this aint fair the way they do me and you call this life

Now he got a shorty she into the lifestyle think school corny on the block drinking 40s
She a little older he parades her as his trophy, niggas plotting on his territory tryna leave it smoky
Now it's a game in da hood called da drug wars, fiends stealing everything tryna get the next score
Young homie treating his new shorty like a new whore
Cuz his money gives him power he don't want her anymore
Competition want to snipe him rape his girl cut her up, self esteem aching so might even set him up
Goes to the next block leader all on his dick, tells him the truth that she wants to make the switch
He refers to her as that damn revenge bitch, tells her to let him know the best time to empty clip
Her ex like hope she can swim since she jumping ship, treat her like a female dog put the bitch on punishment
The block is mine nigga track star running shit
Don't come around here you betta watch who you fuckin wit, thinking like Donald I’ll kill a republican
Rojo dinero is the mission when I’m hustling

Awwwww this aint fair the way they do me (the way they do me)
Awwwww this aint fair the way they do me and you call this life

I’m living foul straight outta bounds, I’m moving weight no biggest losers pounds
I’m getting bread in the night wit da owls, on the block more beef than the cows
I bought my mom a whip, drug membership, all da bread I make real no counterfeit
Da dough a get you bent outta shape paper clip, I’m cutting through da game sharp as a razor grip
Grinning green for the grind, Grinch but no Christmas time
Tired tipsy typical, Tyson knockout ritual, first round critical, life still minimal
I had to sell my soul just to live as a criminal
Momma not proud of me this not how she raised me, I don’t give a fuck her feelings don’t phase me
Them other block niggas wanna string my neck lace me, brain is not here so you can say I’m crazy

Awwwww this aint fair the way they do me (the way they do me)
Awwwww this aint fair the way they do me and you call this life

Gotta face the storm gotta face the fight, in my brain its a battle field every night
In my dreams can’t sleep think how to eat, on the grind conflict ain’t never sweet
No Roley time tick tick tick tick tocks, my end result is prison or getting shot
No Roley time tick tick tick tick tocks, my end result is prison or getting shot