Chorus: Diamond life, sugar baby we dynamite, Playboys and socialites, young n flyy flyy flyy
1989: No pressure, but to the best that's in my section Levels of a professional, skip school, create my own lessons Confessions of a mad rapper, music's got me wrapped up Green strecthing only leads to red stretchers He's next in line for the blessing, get your mind off mine, Hustle something and stop relying on mine, molding a legend while u letting time fly by
At age 17 addicted to ink, a rap fiend who had money dreams, My taste of fame couldn't compare to what I'd seen Them dying, government lying', all for that paper cheese Mom's cryin, watching her only son through TV, MTV, BET He on now, wipe me down, no longer fighting thru the crowd I control the crowd, how you like me now? Woww
Chorus: (x2)
Back to the cold, motivational roads No guidance, just violence and probational homes Thinking my hot routes is all out, music gotta be my way out Family gathered around I gotta make 'em proud, Pops propped in the penitentiary laid out, hoping his son feel under a different cloud I'm speaking directly into the crowd, nothing but personal, just thought you'd want to know the person Far from perfect, but nearly word perfect Must be he, rate him on the scale from one to me Me equaling greatness, one equalling every ten haters The rest couldn't make it due to unlikely behavior, So be patient or end up the next patient Emergency room, newspaper, the new rappers call 'em straight actors Music wise, they playing safety and I'm shootin off safety Aiming for greatness,
Chorus: (x2)
Now everybody wear your game face(Dynamite) Forget everybody just do what he say They wanna move like, they wanna be like, you can do it just like (x2)
Chorus: (x2)
Cash stacking like tetris, his youthful efervesance No army arsenals, I'm only secret weapon Get the message (Got Diamonds?) I'm getting C.R.E.A.M. like a nestle, Welcome, Compton's Armageddon. Label: Lyric |