[Hook] x2

A youngin never had much

But these fake ass rappers tryna act tough

You ain't really tryna act rough

But your baby mama, she just tryna act up

[Verse 1]

Born alone, die alone

Young and on the microphone

Got the type of shit to get you looking for a chromosome

Murder to the white and I ain't talking bout an Al Capone

What you talk?

Homies putting on

Better move along

When I was a baby

I was rapping, I was home alone

[?]

And I had to do this on my own

Mama out there getting it

Her son is only getting grown

Little did she know that her baby boy was getting blown

Yeah they know

Yeah they never look

From their [?]

Mama told me stay in school

Mama told me read the books

But I was a beast and writing verses, followed by the hooks

Married to the game

Has drove me crazy, just a little shook

What it take to be the best rapper in the industry

Seeing every sucka on the top is fucking killing me

Seeing my ambitions go to waste is booty energy

Looking for a [?]

But I ain't talking bout it's anarchy

[?] your homie

Cause you know I got a tendency

To easily

Bust a sucka quick without you telling me

[Hook] x2

A youngin never had much

But these fake ass rappers tryna act tough

You ain't really tryna act rough

But your baby mama, she just tryna act up

[Verse 2]

Born alone, die alone

Busy writing every poem

Do this for my mama

She record and put me in this home

Then she hustled every night

I pay off all her fucking loans

You gon' break your back for me?

That's why I'm writing all these songs

So you won't have to hustle

You won't have to break another bone

This the tune that got me turning up when I was on the train

Homie I be on my way

Listen just another day

Hang low

Money coming soon, homie Angel

Put him on a song

He put me on so I put on for him

When the money come I swear my family will get it all

Promise to my brothers we gon get it when it comes to us

Never on my knees

For the sleep

But I stay woke

So, while I get the cheese

All these others stay broke

Soft boys coming

Feeling kinda like some PlayDoh

Lay low

Say no

To all of the fake hoes

Lay low

Stay [?]

We lacking on the bank rolls

Lay low

I'mma do this shit because I said so

Cover me in rubble with them tinted ass windows

Feeling like the only rapper hanging with the gringos

With the tinted ass windows

Feeling like Trinidad James when I hit, yuh

When I motherfucking hit, yuh

Young gold on me

Young kid got game

Got flame

Got spirit

I'm a god, oh damn, uh

You don't know him, what's his name?

Toyotomi Hideyoshi got game

Man I do this shit, uh

Till these fuckers can't breathe

[?]

[?]

I'mma fiend for this shit

I don't even know

Till I got bands you won't know

I ain't got no bands

I ain't got no fans

Gotta die in no pants

Yeah I'm doing my thing

What's his name?

Toyotomi Hideyoshi

What's his name? what's his name?

Toyotomi Hideyoshi

That's it

And I ain't ever hit a spliff

And I ain't ever hit a bitch

I just sing for her

I just read with her

Spent a stack with her

This the type of shit

That I'mma hear with ya

I rocky Hilfiger