[Verse 1: Bobby Capri]

Uh...Yeah
A lot of people 'round the way feel I made it
And I don't get it cause they acting like I'm obligated
To give 'em something, maybe make a car payment or two, I think they thinking that my neighborhood's gated
It would all be negated though, if they seen the way that
I was living out a bag, apartment in the basement
It's hard being famous in a small town, full of small minds
Big fish, small pond. Still it's all mine
For the time being. But all this sightseeing
I've been doing lately, got my mind going. I've been thinking
What if I leave? Where would I be?
They say the grass on the other side is never as green
I mean, What...none of my neighbors ever water their yard? Shit, I kind of find that hard to believe
I know the apple never really falls far from the tree, I'm in the orchard unfortunately...unfortunately

[Hook: Bobby Capri]

Yeah, I'd rather ask you forgive me
Than to ask you to give me
I ain't got the time to wait around for the answer that your ass gon' give me
Shit, the moment could be over that quickly
And I gotta make...moves, I gotta make moves
Yeah, I gotta make...moves, I gotta make moves, moves, moves, moves
[Verse 2: Bobby Capri]

It's like I said "Fuck Pac!" cause I always thought "BIG"
Don't put me in a box. Not 'til I'm dead
And even then, I'll be cremated. I've earned (urn'd) that
I've come too motherfucking far to ever turn back
Cause if I did, I'd see a bunch of turned backs
Like I'm sitting on the back of the bus
With all their shirts in plain view, with their names on 'em. I can name who every passenger was
I've been playing them away games, them charade games
Cause the way that I be moving, make 'em say things
Trying to guess what I'm doing. But I know I got 'em lost though
Pictionary with Picasso. But I'm so
Rembrandt. Just a motherfucking realist
On some real shit, man fuck who in their feelings
Aye, nobody's gonna want it how you want it
When you hungry, they don't feel it in their stomach
That's real shit

[Hook: Bobby Capri]

Yeah, I'd rather ask you forgive me
Than to ask you to give me
I ain't got the time to wait around for the answer that your ass gon' give me
Shit, the moment could be over that quickly
And I gotta make...moves, I gotta make moves
Yeah, I gotta make...moves, I gotta make moves, moves, moves, moves
[Verse 3: Freddie Gibbs]

Yeah, I'd rather ask you to "give me"
Than to ask you forgive me
Black mask and a semi
I know the lord walking with me
But the devil got me thinking I need more, and I done had plenty
I know I'm wrong for the dope dealing and robberies
She smell the smoke, so fire up the dope when my momma leave
I used to bag up a hundred nicks at my momma crib
Them sucker n****s I blasted, know where my momma live
So duck and hide from this homicide
Can't find a job to get a n**** over, cause I'm under qualified
Under investigation, and undereducated
Tell a snitch n**** "Thank you for your cooperation."
But bitch I gotta make moves
Before you break your pockets, motherfucker break rules
The hollows in my motherfucking 40 break bones
I gave his ass a chopper party, sent his ass home

[Hook: Bobby Capri]

Yeah, I'd rather ask you forgive me
Than to ask you to give me
I ain't got the time to wait around for the answer that your ass gon' give me
Shit, the moment could be over that quickly
And I gotta make...moves, I gotta make moves
Yeah, I gotta make...moves, I gotta make moves, moves, moves, moves