This is a little tune I wrote.... that's all. |
You see that fancy man Rollin through in his brand new Benz Ready to make you fall again With so much as a felt tip pen He wears the national dress code Of a suit n tie, but they won't hide his filthy lies. So I ask him why do we pay to be alive Look him in the eyes as he smokes cloves, heart so cold Says "I'm the big bad wolf in this big bad world, youre just a little girl. That's the way it is." So I spit it at em like this Those expensive shoes won't shine in these city blues And you ain't got a clue as to what these concrete waves have put us through Yes we're humble but doesn't mean these streets don't rumble Yes we're troubled but doesn't mean you'll watch us crumble earned it with our bare hands You don't stand a chance, don't give a fuck bout financial stance Can't even catch a glance Why of course, I wear red better than your wife's new Porsche So with no remorse I say please step of my porch And grab yo jacket, cause you won't be let back in I tell you this much faces on the bill aren't for filled Out to kill You'll never win without this wealthy grin go ahead and begin again on how you're the fancy man, whose alone in his big ol Benz, cause he ain't got no friends And your felt tip pen, only writes on what's paper thin You won't make us fall again Im not scared of those big bad wolves I burn smoother than his clean cut cloves |