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[Zumbi, Verse 1] |
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Now in a world full of pain, hard strugglin' stressed |
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The Buddha say your soul sufferin', I'm still here blessed |
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Just to breath, please believe I'm way out west |
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Oakland to be exact, where the pimps still rest |
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And the mean mugs and thugs that test your chest |
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It'd be so easy for me to be a pess-I-mist |
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But I'm still here rhyming', still chart climbing |
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Addicted to the game like I'm on cane vibin' |
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It's really all organic, so mamma don't panic |
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Your son ain't a crack fiend, even though I back lean |
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Hard on a verse til my shit sound clean |
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The mega lord mix board, sword with a sheen |
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Unseen in the night, while you sleep without light |
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I slave to the beat, twist it til it feel tight |
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Then take it to the sound proof booth with a mic |
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The only thing in life that always made me feel right |
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[Hook] |
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Some my people got high, sold they soul for spit |
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Some drink water fire, work to that brink |
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Some make hard love til it starts to sting |
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I stay rymin', doin' my thing |
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Some shorties get smart, givin' brain to kids |
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Some homies get live with their one night fling |
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Some even go to church, prayin' on they sin |
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I stay rymin', doin' my thing |
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[Verse 2] |
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In school I did cool, always got them grades |
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But I acted real bad so the teachers say: |
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What ya gonna do boy, you gotta go get paid |
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Man I be rymin', doin' my thing |
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And when I wrote they would joke that I wouldn't be shit |
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Caus we was rocking high fashion, all counterfeit |
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Tryin' to learn a new dance step, and feel legit |
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Get a girl with a booty, and real big tits |
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We was crazy home boy, my mind was warped |
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By a 40oz bottle, speakin' tales Too Short |
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What's my taste is yours, didn't know what for |
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Just wanna be a rapper, wanna go on tour |
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Hit hoochies in a hojo, life moves slowmo |
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Fast forward today, on planes doin' promo |
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Now ya see who I am |
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MC to the heart, I'mma funk the jam |
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[Hook] |
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[Verse 3] |
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I coulda been a doctor, or psychologist |
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But it wouldn't make me happy, I chose to bust |
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Roll with gamblers and hustlers |
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Cats who grind all the time, drink and cuss |
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But there's something beautiful, it's right beneath my touch |
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It's hard to understand a certain kind of rush |
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That I get from my lifestyle, struggling trife style |
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Long way to go, happily I walk a long mile |
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I'll... be... coming to town |
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God gave me many blessings, I'mma spread 'em around |
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When you see us in the club I'mma break shit down |
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And I'll be rymin', doin' my thing |
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It's my thing |
