Vinay productions. Killed the beat, hope you can feel the heat. Raw
I've been doing music for as long as I can remember. It's always been a passion of mine, not really a career choice, so if you like it, cool, if not, I'm gonna
Genarick. I'm anything but my name. I don't do it for the money, I butt-f*ck the game.
Story behind the song
Just shopping beats, found this, had to either go real slow, or kinda quick. I went kinda quick.
Lyrics
"I don’t even know where to go with the flow
the beat just hit me, sh** B, let it go
I been struggling, been tryina hide in
my friends, in the end no one to confide in
no trust, no love, no passion
it’s just me, this pen, pad an rappin
so sick, but I can’t let these haters know
I’ll be damned if I’m the man that let it show
I don’t even know, feed the fire
feed the envy, the greed, desire
more wealth, more money, more cash
caught in the race, all of a sudden your last
no way to get it back, being slick spittin raps
ain no guarantee you gon blow
I could be the best MC on the mic bet
no guarantee I’m gonna do a Mic Check
1, 2, 1, 2, to the 3
this rap game, yo, what it’s doin to me…
killing me, motivation still in me
I’ma prove ‘em wrong wit a song, it’s filling me
you feelin me? Got shovel? Dig it? Doubt it
can’t see I’m dying? your judgement is clouded
how you gon question whether or not I’m bout it
had to do it quick, f*** doin it slow
it ain about pride, it’s bout provin it yo
I’m on the level, but what I do on the low
sheeeit,.. you wouldn’t know
*****Chorus*****
Not much to say, I got tucked away
Stuck on play, I don’t give a f*** today
I keep pumpin, keep it movin man
but I’m stuffed full of memories like movin vans
hard to let go, sometimes its not
sometimes my minds open, sometime it’s locked
alone in the cell, can’t believe I got knocked
I kept telling myself, “yea you da man”
had it all banged out, thought I was set
thought I could die an old man, with no regret
then one December night, I got the coldest sweat
caught a few charges and it screwed the plan
3 years ago, I’m feelin older yet
a little colder, yea I threw in my hand
it ain a game no more, this is life an death
my stress goes in an out like ya breath
like a knot on the ceiling, I’m up tight
barkin up the wrong tree you know I don’t give a f*** , right?
clutch mic’s keep rapin beats
writin more lines than spray paint an streets
yellow, now, none of my sh** s mellow
I’m the wrong bull, my horns will break ya teeth.
I feel like DeNiro when he played in “Heat”
I’m never goin back, no way with no beef"
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