Ransom, Marcus Samuels - Humble Beginnings lyrics

For the dumb, deaf and blind
Come and touch braille
Here's a little motivation for
Your rough trails
Enough tales 'bout them drug sales
I'm from the school of hard knocks, nigga
Fuck Yale
Wipe the prints, then I'm out, nigga
Fuck jail cause I'll be here to hold 'em
Down when your bluff fails
Rack of lamb, rosemary and some cut kale
Weigh the blow on a jet, now we upscale
I'm bound to win
'cause those who counting on me
Is now counting me out
But if we counting the money, my nigga
Then count me in know your worth
We all can't be the sun of the earth
A hard pill to swallow
And all you want is the perks
Here it is, life imitating art
We used to watch Scarface
Now we play the parts
Say hello to the bad guy
Mr Miyagi with them sticks if he act fly
I'm that live, two K's get 'em baptized
Cause black lives only matter
When the cash high, is that right?
This a masterpiece
There's No Limit 'til there's nothing
Left in the tank that's word to Master P
You shouldn't clash with me
Cause no spirit don't respect the
Death in your ranks
Them niggas half asleep, yeah
I'm half poet, half preacher
A street chemist with a glass
Beaker, I'm that ether, huh
Usain Bolt with a fast sneaker
Dr dre with his last
Speaker, the black reaper, ahh
I praise God 'cause I plays hard
They use gimmicks in they
Music to enslave y'all
I don't put my faith in
Nothing I can't pray for
The richest place on this
Planet is the graveyard
I hope these fakes understand
That I'm the savior
And if you slaves understand it
Take your chains off, yeah

This is simply the intro, my nigga
I'ma switch B's and tempo, my nigga
I'ma flip G's like Creflo, my hitter
I'ma grip, squeeze and let go the trigger
Like bla-ow like bla-ow
Like bla-ow like bla-ow

I'm a hero to the real
A villain to a fake coward
Never a time that you would take ours
This real life, man, this ain't Power
No Ghost story, there's no glory
It's so gory
You would swear Stephen King wrote for me
I'm Forest Whitaker, I'm Ghost Doggie
I'm O-Dog with his broke 40
I'm George Jung spilling coke on me
I'm so street that you won't cross
Me, so don't force me, nah
Don't wanna hear about that
TEC's you squeeze, or
Making money is your specialty, or
Your side bitches or that ex you leave
I know The Score, I got stripes
I could ref you G's, huh
Black hoodies, black SUVs
Play the game or cut throats
If it's necks you need, huh
The shit too fun, I grip, you run
I'm Shining, the black Nicholson
That's real game for ya

This is simply the intro, my nigga
I'ma switch B's and tempo, my nigga
I'ma flip G's like Creflo, my hitter
I'ma grip, squeeze and let go the trigger
Like bla-ow like bla-ow
Like bla-ow like bla-ow