But all the money in the world couldn't bring me back again
Gonna stretch my mic out in ponce funeral home on marcy
All those new niggaz stop there
But a lot later than a whole gang of people thought
The last of the real hustlers, well
Bleek's gonna be a good rapper
Ain't enough money in this game, to keep me around
Can't go with me on this ride though
Where we going to for breakfast?
"Trying to come up in the game"
"Had a couple of dollar signs to my name"
"Waiting for my day to come"
Nah this ain't jigga it's your lil nigga bleek
Reporting to these motherfuckers live from the street
Game I peeped those, my mind so advanced
At nine I used to geese hoes for Easter clothes
Peep the steez, I represent for all those
With twenty eight grams, on a come-up trying to creep the keys
Large niggas told me park the car, keep the keys
Find a hoodrat and creep to mickey d's
First gun two bullets, niggas know I do pull it
Niggas trying to kill me dog, who wouldn't?
Screw Gooden, I pitch in the pj's
Lit off the ej, I split dutchies with my ring finger
You find a bitch that don't be cream, bring her
Last seen with Bing, he got dropped between us
Shit is constant, that's why I pack the
Johnson and Johnson for the nonsense who wants it?
I go to sleep with a picture of a Porsche on my wall
Man I'm trying to come up on y'all
Get one up on y'all, that's why I hustle in these streets
From sundown to sunup on y'all
Mama said keep bullshitting they'll kill you dead
One week of this hustling brought a living room set
Went to ? d's, niggas mad, veins out
Copped the Jordan's, two weeks before they came out
Nosy bitch from the third floor like "why little nigga?"
Bitch please, twist the trees
Took a long pull, like bitch to breathe
That's my answer, life's like cancer
"Waiting for my day to come"