The Song I Sing

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Eddie Himself Williams

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A world of misunderstanding, a world of doubt, a world of whores, a world of hypocrite, a world of gamblers, a world of dope smokers, a world of prostitutes
He was born into a mean world, but he didn't know where he was going
You understand? He didn't know where he was going

Look at this boy with his big money
All he on the crap table now
He's shooting his dice
He ain't got since enough to know his money aint gone last

Throughout the joy and pain
I watched the dope game
Destroy some thangs
Then I watched it breath life again

I watched my partner go to jail come home and die
My other partner pumped his last until it reached the sky
Motivation these other niggas claiming they rich
I'm in the trenches busting skits trying to come up on shit

Who am I you know me I don't say too much
Mastermind like Meyer Lansky and the bag i clutch
Shit I can get a nigga touched, deserve a beat by Willie Hutch
All I think about is busting' it down and bagging' shit up

I've been on these back blocks serving buttershots for years
I keep a green bottle of Remy to try to drown out my tears
Being broke is my enemy, and I face all fears
I have no fears, no fears

They say, himself, you a old nigga
I told them, if the 80s and 90s ain't kill me
Ain't no nigga
I put that on my soul, nigga

Leave my mama out this
I was a young Lee Iacocca in them crack houses
Fiends was on them couches looking dead
For a chip off that ounce, you seen a grown man beg

This is not for the faint It was not for the weak
They told me I should forget I can't even sleep
I'm shell shocked And if hell hot, I got a Pyrex
And I'ma try to bubble to the top

Can you hear me, King
That's the song I sing
I'ma yell it
Ronald gave me dope

Nancy told me not to sell it
Somebody still gotta be here to tell it
Somebody gotta know the ins and outs the proper recipes to gel it
So y'all gon' have to let me pop my shit

I threw a Panama Lewis mix on the fit
and tried to stretch it a bit
I bounce out and keep the motor running
Then hop in with whatever the game owe me and start thumbing

Tell your bitch get the gumming
and less chit-chat more tongue'n
I just want the top
You get a cock to my youngin
'
Whole bag of O's, we call them Funyuns
I be moving through these trees, real-life Paul Bunyan
I really got it by the P, but I can get you an onion
I don't be haggling the fee and I don't do no refunding

I got a Tou-can Sam nose I pick my own load
I set my own dice, then I shake them and roll
I hit the cape when it's snow. I feel great, so you know
A few empty hands, departed but not a crumb left the table

It take two hands to run a vacuum sealer, not fo'
And I run through strands, so I get my conversation on the go
I be smoking loud, bumping, move the crowd, minding my own business
I see some money looking out this tent, I'ma pull over and get it

This is my song, I submit it
Eat dick to the critics
You wasn't there, you didn't live it
This how a real nigga did it

Can you hear me, King
That's the song I sing
I'ma yell it
Ronald gave me dope

Nancy told me not to sell it
Somebody still gotta be here to tell it
Somebody gotta know the ins and outs of proper recipes to gel it
So y'all don't have to let me pop my shit

I threw a Panama Lewis mix on the fit and tried to stretch it a bit
I bounce out and keep the motor running
Then hop in with whatever the game owe me and start thumbing
I'ma yell it

Eat dick to the critics
You wasn't there, you didn't live it

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