Things Change (Album Version Explicit)

Nigga things, change, never stay the same Now watch me come up, I hustle, I hustle even harder I put that work in to win, no problem All money ain't good money, this I know But I still love hood money, I gets my dough And as a youngster, a nigga went to so much church And still turned out fucked up, I did so much dirt Chose to bang the neighborhood, I put in so much work Did a whole lot of time, caused mom so much hurt On everythang, that boy wasn't gunned on purpose Who knew that all my darkness was really gon' surface I was stuck on that bullshit, just runnin the streets Without some type of beef the week wasn't complete It's like a nigga feel better after dumpin his heat On feet, just to see that body slumped in the seat Was like a whole nother rush to me, bustin was sweet Now I'm smarter, I'm all about somethin to eat I'm on the road, spend 30 days a month in a suite But I'm still gon' hustle and cheat, let's go Yeah, uhh, now walkin down the block without'cha weapon Is a first class ticket to a lesson I thirst cash, kick it to perfection, me and Ben got a connection That's why I bring the Benz to impress him Heart in my zone, all alone homes rattle in my bones Cause he yappin off his lips and if I hit him I'll be wrong Cause he ain't never gon' be shit, and I done worked so hard But I will make you a corn on the cob, you'll be performin for God Either that or rob you on your boulevard Bet you never thought for a second niggas'd pull your card God I'm on my job, scarred since my nigga gone HP tatted on me so his memory lives on Engagin in drama without your bomber'll Be funeral arrangements for your mama I learned that when I was in pajamas watchin Michael and Madonna Now I got the appetite of a pirahna, nigga What nobody knows, all the roads you go through You can't even talk to those that supposedly know you Some of the levels that these people'll go to for crumbs Damn, tell me, is this what that dough do? That's when you find yourself talkin to Pro Tools There's not too many that ever walked in the Loc shoes Or tell the tale that my heart contains I explain, so many different parts of pain I'm clean, but still some marks remain From the past, when that kush weed sparks the brain The cash made some people start to change I feel hate when I pulled up and parked the Range Your damn right I got rich, but my heart the same And practice makes perfect with the art of aim You ain't really got the heart to bang You ain't start to hang, 'til you found out I caught the chain