[Intro]
When Jason was a little boy, he used to always wanna sit by me whileâ
Iâ
rolled my weedâ
and sipped my morning coffee
With hisâ
lilâ grown ass, actinâ like he was my daddy
Usually, Iâdâsendâhimâoff
But one day,âI let himâsit there
And then, I asked him:
âWhat do you think is wrong with the game?â
[Verse 1]
Too many soldiers try to be captains
Too many captains, n*s think words gonâ be actions
N*s Ri-Ris, so you gets no reaction
Canât get nowhere if I keep lookinâ backwardâlook (Look)
Shit, Iâve washed my hands, went cooked in the devilâs kitchens
You baller-block, then you the devilâs henchmen
Donât get me food; rather, you teach me fishing
That kind of thinkinâ got your boy in this elite position
Listen, check a check, I bet them streets gonâ hug you
The streetsâll quickly show you love, but they donât fuckinâ love you
They see you on your high horse, they quick to bust your bubble
âCause they donât wanna see you on; they rather you be in troubleâwith them
They running tall and they pray you stumble
Itâs like a coach hand you the ball, but he pray you fumble
It donât make senseâI look at shit and just be befuddled
Itâs like the blind leading the blindâthis must be Stevieâs wonder
The fake daps and fake claps, I O-K-see the thunder
Fuck itâlong as they money callinâ, I wonât need they number
âCause when the money wasnât callinâ, I didnât see they number
Bet if Iâm gone, they miss meâSelena, huh, bi-di-bom-bom
[Interlude]
Damn, I heard the fuck out of that!
Now, flash forward to 2020
I sit here with my son, whoâs rolling me a joint while Iâm pouring him a cup of coffee
And I can see in his eyes that his slate is clean
Whatever has happened before this day is no longer in his target
Heâs forgiven, but hasnât forgotten
[Verse 2]
I know youâre tired of seeing kings clash, royal rumbles
So many crabs in the barrel when tryinâ to make your gumbo
Rather take my distaste of that on records than makinâ the gun blow
âCause my n*s go gung ho, pueblos to the jungles
West side Pirus to the six-oâs, nine-oâs to the nine-nine-mâs, my n*s sickos
County jail shit: âYou donât bang? Then whatâs your zip code?â
Think âcause I be busting these rhymes that I wonât flip mode
I got bigger fish to fry, so, fuck it, I keep my lip closed
Remember back in the day, shit, I wouldnâtâve picked those
Iâdâve fired off, got with the extras, made the call and had the homies flipping blocks like itâs Tetris
That ainât a winning mind-state, plus, itâs whatâs expected
No, I neglected it; I still respect it
On my search for perfection, I walk with God, so I donât need protection
Compton on mind, broâI bleed the section
I am L.A., so, who need connection?
I got a money-getter, a killer, a natural-born winner, and a woman that could hold you down when you down at each and every intersection
[Outro]
On God
Thatâs for real, on God, bro
Diamond life, yeah
Itâs new money to get, new things to buy
Itâs new weed to try, shit
Matter fact, leave me some of that rapper weedâthat shit different, that shit bomb