[Verse 1]

Life won't let you be no Indian giver

And I say that just to tell you that

You never get the present back

Hope you use your intellect

Hope you don't spend it selling crack

Hope you ain't up on the Internet

Typing up what you won't never speak out

Hoping to get respect

It don't work like that

If it do we should get a check

Some rappers work like that and them niggas be getting checks

I'm interjecting, I hope they feel disrespected

I saw they vid, and I rather my cable be disconnected

Hard drive to the game I'm saving

Whole life been hard like pavement

Trying to be 24 years old with a little stock and a nice house, no payment

Trying to be the one song that'll that touch your soul if there ain't nothing on your playlist

Trying to win in this game don't hate the player homie you Skip Bayless

In this game they said it was hard to blow but homie you sure as don't get comfortable with no record deal

I be comfortable as the florist man

Not too many know Morris, man

Not too many know Morris

Those that do know here be him and say that he needs a grave and a florist

Chorus

[Verse 2]

God been doing surgery on me, no anesthesia though

Feeling every little thing but pain is what we need to grow

So I know when he stitch me back, a nigga might be breathing slow

But I never be fronting for any type of reason though

That's why new money go so well with a old soul

Won't be splurging, impressing other niggas old hoes

Or changing up like niggas used to try their freshman year

New opportunities, won't never fill no old holes

You still who you was; money won't change that there

Some of the lamest niggas that I met was millionares

Thinking that they could buy some heart nobody real in here

Really, what's worse is you believe 'em; ain't no feelings here

So I packed up all my things: my notebook, a thesaurus

Moved up to a king-like mind state; left all the doubts in my storage homie

Not too many know Morris

Not too many know Morris

Those that do know here be him until he need a grave and a florist

Chorus

[Verse 3]

I mean, I never want to be one of those artists feeling empty; buy a chain to flaunt it

Telling it can change the world; I'm thinking about adding diamonds on it

Even though I feel rewarded, I know that I can't afford it

Don't change the fact that I bought it; don't pay my taxes they audit, though

Now what's important is only what gets imported

Used to reveal my memories; touch my soul, I record it

How I get to the point, I became what I would despise

Hear the voice in the back of my mind; I don't be trying to ignore it

But that money, that fame, that dream, made the voice of God so distorted

Harder to hear my purpose with that Murcielago horses

Right next to me plus these Porsches

These women beautiful, gorgeous

They hotter than flaming torches

I'm trying my best I promise but competing with all these forces

Life lesson and torture

Want to graduate from my past but almost too scared for new courses

Not too many know Morris

Not too many know Morris

Those that do know here be him until he need a grave and a florist

Chorus

[Outro]

If my favorite artist asked me, "What you want: a car or house?"

Hold that; just give me the inspiration you had starting out

Cause all my favorites losing it; I wonder what that's all about

Hoping that the paper you touch souls, that's worth more than all your accounts

And thats real, yeah and that's real

My nigga

That's real

For real

Some of the music that you made helped us wash away the pain

And that's real