I all I been through still don’t make a nigga a hate. They say he a product of his environment Now, he living in estates. Worked hard for a living I pride myself off eating on my own plate. The stakes is still high. So I feed on chickens that fry. Some get high Got heels and BBL’s Bitches trying to come up too, I guess all else failed. Ain’t gone lie, Often contemplate about life With my ex wife. Couldn’t see past the podium Now, they filled with sodium. Heart made of steel like the movie called Magnolia. You got sloppy seconds Ain’t no way you controlling her. Thinking about my past when I was living trife. Glad I didn’t give up, Or off myself with a knife. Peter pipe her, pick pepper But, will not rhyme. Got beef without the Philly This shit the last time. Seventy- six was his inception. A. I. manufacturing misconception. To produce ungodly things, Bringing the coming of his resurrection. Hands down we busting rounds at the deception. The bride coming down the aisle, immaculate perception.