MIDDLE CHILD

(album: Revenge Of The Dreamers III - 2019)

You good, T-Minus?

Niggas been counting me out
I'm counting my bullets, I'm loading my clips
I'm writing down names, I'm making a list
I'm checking it twice and I'm getting 'em hit
The real ones been dying, the fake ones is lit
The game is off balance, I'm back on my shit
The Bentley is dirty, my sneakers is dirty
But that's how I like it, you all on my dick

I'm all in my bag, this hard as it get
I do not snort powder, I might take a sip
I might hit the blunt, but I'm liable to trip
I ain't popping no pill, but you do as you wish
I roll with some fiends, I love 'em to death
I got a few mil' but not all of them rich
What good is the bread if my niggas is broke?
What good is first class if my niggas can't sit?
That's my next mission, that's why I can't quit
Just like LeBron, get my niggas more chips
Just put the Rollie right back on my wrist
This watch came from Drizzy, he gave me a gift
Back when the rap game was praying I'd diss
They act like two legends cannot coexist
But I'd never beef with a nigga for nothing
If I smoke a rapper, it's gon' be legit
It won't be for clout, it won't be for fame
It won't be 'cause my shit ain't selling the same
It won't be to sell you my latest lil' sneakers
It won't be 'cause some nigga slid in my lane
Everything grows, it's destined to change
I love you lil' niggas, I'm glad that you came
I hope that you scrape every dollar you can
I hope you know money won't erase the pain
To the OGs, I'm thanking you now
Was watching you when you was paving the ground
I copied your cadence, I mirrored your style
I studied the greats, I'm the greatest right now
Fuck if you feel me, you ain't got a choice
Now I ain't do no promo, still made all that noise
This shit gon' be different, I set my intentions
I promise to slap all that hate out your voice

Niggas been counting me out
I'm counting my bullets, I'm loading my clips
I'm writing down names, I'm making a list
I'm checking it twice and I'm getting 'em hit
The real ones been dying, the fake ones is lit
The game is off balance, I'm back on my shit
The Bentley is dirty, my sneakers is dirty
But that's how I like it, you all on my dick

I just poured something in my cup
I've been wanting something I can feel
Promise I am never letting up
Money in your palm don't make you real
Foot is on they neck, I got 'em stuck
I'ma give 'em something they can feel
If it ain't 'bout the squad, don't give a fuck
Pistol in your hand don't make you real

I'm dead in the middle of two generations
I'm little bro and big bro all at once
Just left the lab with young 21 Savage
I'm 'bout to go and meet Jigga for lunch
Had a long talk with the young nigga Kodak
Reminded me of young niggas from 'Ville
Straight out the projects, no faking, just honest
I wish that he had more guidance, for real
Too many niggas in cycle of jail
Spending they birthdays inside of a cell
We coming from a long bloodline of trauma
We raised by our mamas, Lord we gotta heal
We hurting our sisters, the babies as well
We killing our brothers, they poisoned the well
Distorted self image, we set up to fail
I'ma make sure that the real gon' prevail, nigga

I just poured something in my cup
I've been wanting something I can feel
Promise I am never letting up
Money in your palm don't make you real
Foot is on they neck, I got 'em stuck
I'ma give 'em something they can feel
If it ain't 'bout the squad, don't give a fuck
Pistol in your hand don't make you real

Money in your palm don't make you real
Pistol in your hand don't make you real
Money in your palm don't make you real