High For Hours TP Fuego

Verse 1:

Dear Mr President
I wrote this, verse for you
I hope somehow you get play this shit and hear my view
I was chillin', sippin' texting all these girls up in my phone
Until my nigga hit my phone like...
Where you at dawg?
I got some shit i wanna share with you
Hurry up dawg
I pull through, he rolls one, we started talking 'bout you
Like, does this nigga even care about us
Cos if you black and you lack the cheese
You can't lurk in the burbs 'less you cut the green
Or your mama in the scene cleaning up their cribs
How you got the system setup
Be fuckin up my niggas 
When you tryna get your bread up
They come and clip your wings
They telling us we need education
So we wake up in the morning
And we oucthea paper chasing
And i ain't talking 'bout the cheddar
I'm talkin 'bout diploma, they say that paper better
They tell you that you better off with a paycheck
Push that 9 to 5 'til you old with your gray hair
First you start at the bottom theen you will get there
While them white boys
Man them bitches living life!
But fuck that cos i know we gon bounce back
My nighas in the ville with their faith on thread
All their dreams getting crashed
So they lean on the gat and they rob a nigha fast like gimme your whip!
Gimme your shit
If i didn't rap, I'd be banging up clips
Yeah, cos what's the worst that could happen
25 to life? Man that shit is a blessing
Cos you ain't gotta worry 'bout your next meal, or a crib, or the cream or your gear
All you gotta do is clique up!