Momma said, "Be good or be good at the grind,"

Momma said, "Be good or be good at the grind," In the shadow of the city, where the lost souls unwind, Fetty in the bag, yeah, I’m stacking it right, Salt Lake nights, got the stars in my sight. Watch my back, every corner’s a test, Cops lurking close, man, they don’t want me blessed, Haters on the prowl, but I’m built like a tank, Counting all my blessings, while I’m loading the bank. Rainy days come, so I’m saving that dough, In this dark world, you reap what you sow, Trust is a luxury, and loyalty’s rare, Keep my circle tight, only real ones I spare. Heart of a lion, but the streets make me cold, Chasing dreams in the night, while the stories unfold, Momma’s words echo, through the pain and the strife, In this game of survival, I’m just living my life.