Lyrics:
[Verse: Legacy]
You know I feel myself the way I'm just a little fella
Hey low people playin games but still they still ain't know my level
Ain't
the city, but instead you just tryna compete
When you could've followed my lead
I'm Rich Off A Mac
Been in the game only a year, that paper been coming no cap
But that'll never happen
Take this war shit deeply
My young niggas starving in them
Trenches and they need me
They like, "Meek Milly
Won't you spit that
g'yeah
[CJ Mac]
I'm a motherfuckin Westside gangbang, low ride nigga (Yeah)
A 600 Benz ride, Cristal sipper (Nigga)
You don't want to fuck with me
can take me anywhere
And you're making me feel like I'm loved by somebody
I can deal with the bad nights when I'm with my baby, yeah
Ooh, ooh, ooh,
I'm surrounded by, this shit is confusing
Cause everyone could rap
Not everyone could make real music
If you not jacking MLB the movement
You niggas is
and God out here dropping some clues
I wonder if you think about me as much as I think of you
I say I'm fine
But every time my eyes screaming it's not true
the world
Please heal our hearts tonight
Everyone hurts but not for long
That weight you bare, will make you strong
Your guilty stains can be erased
and I guess that's why I'm all by myself
and when they lock me away in prison for life
I won't even touch myself
I feel like you don't be understanding
see red now
If you step to me you'll need juggernog
See me OD on the beat
Still treat it like there's nothing wrong
But y'all been waking up the
Beast,
heal and say self care ain't selfish
But all of y'all still judge you don't need it you're perfecto
But y'all gave me hurt feelings and I dunno what's
pursuit is the proof
And representative of my Midwest roots
Coming home to roost with a great big bowl of the soul's chicken noodle soup
You can call me
bastards wanna skin you
I’m in Pulaski getting nasty let the police pass Me Commonwealth bastards wanna skin you
I had to let go and let god all them
Can't take the heat don't feel the fire
She difficult to reach but I'm harder to find cause
She don't know me by my name
She just know me by my aim
the fame get fucked by the game
Get fucked by the record label using you for change
You're not getting payed but you paying for your plays
And you
buns
And your ex got that box, rated E for everyone
Ooh, damn girl, that's nasty
I hit the spin move when she tried to harass me
Tryna live but I'm
Sepada, and ah, Richard Greco
And everyone down at Bogarts, thanks a million
I gotta say w'sup and thank you to Dave Shae and Greg A
Whom without this
Sepada, and ah, Richard Greco
And everyone down at Bogarts, thanks a million
I gotta say w'sup and thank you to Dave Shae and Greg A
Whom without this
a missin' tooth ahead of my time
But still in a league of my own
I tried to quit
But they just won't leave me alone
If you ain't got the right price
Stop
way over arpanet lines
Came out the military, moving commercial
Pursuin consumers computers now personal
They put me in movies, created a buzz
But they
they be speaking
Couldn't rest so I had to put them 6 feet deep
That's how it is, I was raised by the thugs
They all had potential but they told me
(Intro)
This the type of beat you ride too
Ya heard.. Ya heard me
It’s a little serious for you..
Paradise, feel me, from Morocco..
(Verse 1)
(nah)
Left me for dead, shot in my head
Standin' so hard, they hate that shit
What you think I wouldn't go straightin' that shit?
East Atlanta niggas
Bitch you Mack 10
Spin ya block
50 shots from the Mac 10
Keep acting gansta we wack him
West side connection
No Mac 10
Back to the trap
Get that pack in
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