All I got is me, myself, and I, yeah
Yeah, babe, me, myself, and I
Section 8, telegram, yeah
All I got is me, myself, and I, got myself again
Time is money, I need that money, got no time for no friends
Ain’t nobody gon’ ride like me, cause I’m gon’ ride to the end
Been in fucked up situations, where you niggas would bend
Play my cards, I never bluff, and I ain’t throwin’ my hand
Shit, I saw when times got hard, I watched my nigga readin’ it He snitched
We called that talk, I can’t believe what he did
Cause he knew what we was doin’ before we went on that lick
I been rappin’ and snappin’, I fell in love with this shit
It caught up with me’, cause I be jackin’ since I was a lil kid
I been trippin’ and goonin’, and throwin’ rocks at the pen
All that stickin’ and movin’, it got me doin’ it big
Look, nobody gon’ keep it real how I be keepin’ it real
Coulda snitched and got released, you know they all for the deal
Put myself in tight positions, I can’t even regret em
I was schemin’, times was hard, and I just needed some cheddar
My life a movie, it’s Kodak, I’m the movie director
Sometimes a nigga get scared, but I know it’s gon’ get better
Remember when it was my people, them was gon’ send me some letters
Cause I was missin’ my bitches, and I was missin’ my fellas
Hot pocket on me, so my pants keep fallin’
They wanted to take me out the game, but I just keep on ballin’
Polo down, pop my collar, lil nigga shot callin’
Could just hold up for me on the other line, guap callin’
I’ll get back to you later, I’m rollin’ out of my tater
I been leanin’ so damn much, and now I got me disabled
Niggas grindin’, be connivin’, do shit under the table
Just last night, John John got hit by the raiders
Fuckin’ round on the ugly hit that boy with a taser
Once I came out the womb, I jumped straight to teenager
They say I’m a demon semen, young boy, hell raider
If I ain’t pullin’ up in a foreign, then I’m pullin’ in caver
Project baby paper chasin’ tie
They dead fly
Institution
Run up on me, send you straight to your maker,
All that kush that I be smokin’, you think I’m from Jamaica
But hell nah, ain’t from Jamaica, bitch, I’m from golden acres
And I’ll tag you with that 9, and that bitch got a laser
And I’ll lay a nigga down, I’m like “fuck nigga, paid him”
I ain’t bakin, but I’m cakin’, I should open a pastry
I got dope in the basement