[Intro]
(Statik Selektah)

[Verse 1: Bun B]
I seen a whole lot of shit in the streets in the last fifty
Had people smile in my face, behind my back, actin' shifty
Seen lifelong friendships quickly turn into enemies
So even inside the good, there's bad memories
Now, I survived the worst attempts that people had for me
But I ain't cried 'bout it like I'm just a sad story
I know a lot of folks had it worser than I did
And they ain't complain about it, how the fuck can I? Shit
I'ma put my problems back in my duffel
Man, I'm just grindin' and hustlin' I ain't lookin' for trouble
Goddammit, I got enough of my own
I'm just tryin' to spit a couple of poems
Pick up some bread and go on back home
I'm tryin' to stay up out of the fuckery
And I ain't finna fuck with you as long as you don't fuck with me
'Cause if you came from where we came and saw what we saw
You'd know how hard it is to find your balance like a seesaw

[Verse 2: 38 Spesh]
Uh, ayo
It's more important things we should cherish
Fuck money, that piece of paper mean nothin' like an illegal marriage
Everything I speak coherent
My vocab deep like the elites, but please pardon my street appearance
You ain't know I was a single parent
My kids depend on me to stay away from evil spirits
I made a promise not to bring up merit
But I'm a wolf that don't care about wool, my n***a, I don't hunt sheep to share it
Huh, I'd rather eat than wear it
Since y'all spend money on jewels, at least get some decent carats
Y'all financially embarrassed
Even when I ain't have, I re'd-up with my last, with my last, that's being fearless
When y'all was out here being careless
I wanna say thanks, mistakes y'all made gave me awareness
Don't even compare it
You watchin' season four of your favorite show, I'm eatin' out at Four Seasons in Paris
Trust
[Verse 3: Grafh]
I give it up for my loved ones
Tell the opps we up one, tell the cops suck one
A real woman know a real n***a when she touch one
I took a brick and I turned it into my kids' trust fund
Dolo with no plus one, back on 'em
I don't care if you strapped, I seen n***as get clapped with the strap on 'em
Every pan that my mama put back, I put crack on 'em
And whoever sent the witchcraft went back on 'em
It's whiplash, yet I still smash the back block with it
Fake-ass n***a, the gangster got ass shots in it
My stash box got a black mop in it
The stash Glocks the head shots half the size of a padlock in it
Your stash box got a laptop in it
We smash on 'em, me and Bun beat and mash on 'em
Trash rappers, we Scooby Snack on 'em
In New York, when rappers get they jewelry snatched, we the dudes that get they jewelry back for them (Research that)
He strapped with the booby trap on him
And the gun smoke make it look like the Uzi transforming
And I gave a Gucci bag to a groupie last morning
God told me cool it, I used my last warning
Man, pray for me

[Outro: Haile Supreme]
I done seen a lot of things you can't televise
Leave that bullshit at home tonight
Throw that weakness to the fire
Ain't no tellin' when the temperature's right
I done seen a lot of things you can't televise
Leave that bullshit at home tonight
Throw that weakness to the fire
Ain't no tellin' when the temperature's right
Oh, ain't no tellin'