i just wish in ma life, i would live to not be concerned wit shit/
get rich of the mic, n' earn so much money that i could burn it/
and not worry, cuz i got strategies to get rich/
ma desire is like a scratch that's craving to be itched/
but in ma life, it ain't like dat, niggaz always gotta disagree/
now their momma's callin me, askin why i put dem out of their misery/
ma ex callin me, says she pregnant, n' she want me to handle ma business/
few years lata, parents project strucken, they had to cancel Christmas/
its tha world against me, sometimes i feel like a fugitive/
running from tha truth, but still, wanna know what ma future is/
waking up in tha middle of tha night, from plottin' out to many tasks/
ma uniform to work, is black leather, dime sacks, and a ski mask/
tryin to make amends, wit my only friend, a bottle of remy martin/
i feel frustrated, like a fueled car, that just ain't startin'/
So I sell a little of that dro, yo nigga its all tha same/
parents holding their heads in shame, teachers calling me to blame/
what am i to do but just lie in ma room, holdin that vodka in ma cup/
and i'm grasping that cross on ma chest, hoping that i would just wake up/