Isaiah Rashad - Part III lyrics

My momma see my page, said baby you a winner
Now at this tender age
Lord knows that I'm finna
I'm dealing with this rage
And abortions got me pent up
We could all die tonight
Lord knows that I'm

Look, Lord forgive me for
All my bad decisions
My pot of gold was never hidden underground
It was packed in a bowl
With a woman by my side
Couple snacks from the store
Perfecting every line
Shit was left from the floor
My momma tell me "Get a job"
But employment ain't employing us
Not with my record, right stage exit
Momma, I'm a king, but they pay me peasant
He tell me that I'm fired and
He say it so pleasant
The hood under fire, local news not present
They focused on Trayvon
And they focused on the President
I guess it's unimportant in my residence
See they never say they love
You in the present tense
I think I'm quitting school
I'mma be in debt and work fast food
Shit I'm sorry I ain't made it yet

My momma see my page, said baby you a winner
Now at this tender age
Lord knows that I'm finna
I'm dealing with this rage
And abortions got me pent up
We could all die tonight
Lord knows that I'm

I try to, I try to talk 'bout my problems
But that shit don't ever
Don't never fucking come out
Right don't never fucking
Don't never fucking come out right
When I try to

Ay, what's suicide from the top
Of the swing set? Maybe I could fly but I
Ain't got my wings yet
They tell me, "Get a job, nigga grow up
The bills still piled
They don't care if you don't blow
Up, you dropping out of college, huh
You unemployed so I know
You spitting polished, huh
You the first born
How you still your momma problem child?
Britney was a bitch
She always said that you was selfish
So go and buy your bitch
That's how you do it when you wealthy"
Oh, chlamydia
I thought you said that you was healthy
I'm tryna make it big, God
They said that you would help me
Say it so selfless yet pray it so selfish
I'm scared to go to Hell
Smoke it to the peace
Piece landed me in jail, movies with a bitch
Bitch pregnant as hell, I was happier in jail

Devil on my shoulders, tell me no
I shouldn't get it
I probably made a baby off
In that Honda Civic
After I dropped my baby off
In that Honda Civic
I probably should repeat it
I know you didn't get it