CORRECTAR LA LETRA
Letra : 24 Bars
(Run that sh*t up, Robbie)
Mama tryna stop the way I'm livin'
When they came through without you, they into dissing
I done broke my mama heart and tried to fix it
Struggled with payin' the bills, said, "Sh*t, we livin'"
I was really in the streets, poor hustlin'
Tryna make them ends meet, more money
I was really in the heat, so bummy
Ayy, ayy, they can't tell me I ain't do it 'cause I really did
Havin' dreams of all my nightmares, feelin' like a kid
I never really meant it for it to go like this
R.I.P. my big cuz, man, long live Chris
All these other whack rappers ain't built like this
I swear to God it wasn't supposed to be like this
Caveman, baby, yeah, I came up from the bottom
Said she like a ghetto boy, she lookin' like a model
And I never found my answers at the bottom of a bottle
Lot these n***as fakes, if he trippin', we gon' squabble
Got a n***a preachin', got a n***a singin' gospel
Leave your mama with no child, that's the end of a novel
I remember back then, I ain't have no clothes
I was tryna hustle, tryna get to the dough
But always had my homies, they done closed all the doors
I was tryna get it, tryna get it off the floor
Always had my homies when I really needed more
Mama tryna stop the way I'm livin'
When they came through without you, they into dissing
I done broke my mama heart and tried to fix it
Struggled with payin' the bills, said, "Sh*t, we livin'"
I was really in the streets, poor hustlin'
Tryna make them ends meet, more money
I was really in the heat, so bummy
Ayy, ayy, they can't tell me I ain't do it 'cause I really did
Havin' dreams of all my nightmares, feelin' like a kid
I never really meant it for it to go like this
R.I.P. my big cuz, man, long live Chris
All these other whack rappers ain't built like this
I swear to God it wasn't supposed to be like this
Caveman, baby, yeah, I came up from the bottom
Said she like a ghetto boy, she lookin' like a model
And I never found my answers at the bottom of a bottle
Lot these n***as fakes, if he trippin', we gon' squabble
Got a n***a preachin', got a n***a singin' gospel
Leave your mama with no child, that's the end of a novel
I remember back then, I ain't have no clothes
I was tryna hustle, tryna get to the dough
But always had my homies, they done closed all the doors
I was tryna get it, tryna get it off the floor
Always had my homies when I really needed more
