Yea... Yea       Yes       Ima call this here... real rap       Cause this rap is real... ya know?       I hope you ain't too tired to cry,    And I hope you know you ain't never too live to die.       Listen...    I grew up where them people called them people on us    think we slangin, but we just got beepers on us    Grindin' all day like we got sleepers on ya    Livin' like the videos write a treatment on us    Stuck in the hood like they put semen on us    Ghetto birds still shittin on us, government still quittin' on us    Lost a few homies and the grief still sittin on us    So we got the names writtin on us, white folks still spittin' on us    And them bitch ass police canines, teeth still grittin' on us    But we smoke, ashes still gettin' on us    All the bitches still hittin' on us    I remember well, Bezzy roll the L    Bezzy aint here... where's Bezzy at?... Bezzy got killed    And that was my nigga, I go way back wit my nigga    But I know thats how it happened my nigga,    Shit is much deeper than this rappin my nigga    But now they all rappin, my niggas, so now I must make it happen    So I'ma play the captain, sail boat flappin my nigga,    No fingas I'm snappin', happy for my nigga Lil' Tiggas    Cause even though we couldn't, The Lord saved him    Last time we seen him was when Katrina hated    Found his body like a month later, Rest in Peace boy    He was a East boy, and so was Wesy West he was a good nigga, so I know he blessed    And his daughter is a princess, this shit is harder than a bench press    But I'ma keep goin, and I swear I got a lump in my throat    But I'ma keep on pumpin a float,    So if I cry dont stop the beat, I feel like my heart just stopped the beat    My nigga Lil' Derrick is quick to cop a key, either that or load the gat and go pop a G    And because of that he's just a name in a rhyme of mine    I pray for his family and his mama    So much shit, just sit on this mind of mine    I think about it all the time    I drink about it all the time    I smoke back to back    Cause if my thoughts got to me I'd be in this rap    Or I'd be in the can, thank God I had dreams of being the man    Yea    And fuck a man with a badge, cause he ain't shit to a man on the edge    The five o killed naughty good boy dead    Man you woulda thought they killed corn bread    Shot 'em up face down on the lawn    Not to mention with his handcuffs on    Not to mention they had plain clothes on    And the complain goes on    But dont nobody do nothin' bout it    The jail house and the mourge is too fuckin' crowded    And haters at an all time high    Everybody gotta hate us like a fuckin iPod    Shit and they tried to burn my phantom up, but i got my gun license    I got my hammers up, im ready to shoot like a camera    Stay still mothafucka I'ma have to write my will this summer    Cause if they don't kill me, I'ma kill this summer    Yea    And you can put that on my late father or my late grandmother    Ms. Mercedes Carter    Or my grandfather Larry Bosock    The old man hustle 'till his heart stopped    And all I no 'bout my real pops is that he had money    No bank account, that brown paper bag money    Yea he might hit me off wit a little brag money    But the nigga still wouldn't be a dad for me    But look how I turned out I hope he glad for me    But thats why when I see him I act mad funny    Cause he's a joke to me    Don't message, don't call, don't talk to me    It's just me and my mama how it's suppose to be    And I make sure she paid like she rode for me    And I know she gets all hope for me    And I don't ever want to see her mope for me    Hopefully, but truthfully there is a day that's due for me    But we gone pray it's as far as the future sees    You are listenin' to the future Wee-zy F. Baby    Amen.