[Verse 1: Price]
I'm lost tryna find life, supposed to follow behind Christ
But at night be texting old girl to see what that behind like
Been in my word lately tryna spend my time right
But stressed out smoking herb tryna get my mind right
Am I a hypocrite or real enough to admit the shit?
Am I a hypocrite or real enough to admit the shit? (nigga)
If you don't know nothing bout price know I'm sucka-proof
Yeah I'm number one but gon' forever push the number two
My daddy had the glass house and he had on colors too
And I was in the back, my head was bobbing with a cup of juice
Got a little older playing pogs, I was scuffing shoes
Then I started hooping, ya boy was getting buckets too
In middle school, me and Ju was the trouble two
Clipse grindin' or Dipset what we was crumpin' to
Dre, Kanye, OutKast we was bumpin' to
And all them slow Pretty Ricky songs we was humpin' to
Robert Kelly Grind bumpin' to, then I started trouble oooh
High school, I always used to disrespect the substitute
Now I'm in the office Mama mad cause she coming through
I'm in that bitch talkin' back like I do what I wanna do
She smackin me across the head like boy what type of son are you?
Matter fact go pack your bags i had enough of you
(Get the fuck out my house!), fuck it cool
I hit 2nd street where all the homies tucking 2's
They hit the alley and duck and shoot, might fuck around and then bucket you
Raised around guns but quick to show you how them knuckles do
I swear this shit ain't nothin' cool, so I tried to get away
And fell in love with you
Music my getaway, I hope I'm cuttin' through
Cause I realize, dealin' with women is like dealin' with goodwill
It ain't nothing new, I'm fucking through
I'm lost tryna find life, supposed to follow behind Christ
But at night be texting old girl to see what that behind like
Been in my word lately tryna spend my time right
But stressed out smoking herb tryna get my mind right
Am I a hypocrite or real enough to admit the shit?
Am I a hypocrite or real enough to admit the shit? (nigga)
If you don't know nothing bout price know I'm sucka-proof
Yeah I'm number one but gon' forever push the number two
My daddy had the glass house and he had on colors too
And I was in the back, my head was bobbing with a cup of juice
Got a little older playing pogs, I was scuffing shoes
Then I started hooping, ya boy was getting buckets too
In middle school, me and Ju was the trouble two
Clipse grindin' or Dipset what we was crumpin' to
Dre, Kanye, OutKast we was bumpin' to
And all them slow Pretty Ricky songs we was humpin' to
Robert Kelly Grind bumpin' to, then I started trouble oooh
High school, I always used to disrespect the substitute
Now I'm in the office Mama mad cause she coming through
I'm in that bitch talkin' back like I do what I wanna do
She smackin me across the head like boy what type of son are you?
Matter fact go pack your bags i had enough of you
(Get the fuck out my house!), fuck it cool
I hit 2nd street where all the homies tucking 2's
They hit the alley and duck and shoot, might fuck around and then bucket you
Raised around guns but quick to show you how them knuckles do
I swear this shit ain't nothin' cool, so I tried to get away
And fell in love with you
Music my getaway, I hope I'm cuttin' through
Cause I realize, dealin' with women is like dealin' with goodwill
It ain't nothing new, I'm fucking through
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