A Little Story

[Intro]
Here's a little story that must be told
Here's a little story that must be told

[Verse]
The story of a young girl
Praying for those who chose her to notice
This golden child also entitled, the holy grail drinker
For sure a soldier trooper
Maneuver through your crew and noticed only overseas
And quoted like a [?] maneuver
Picture different, my vision position to capture moments
And living it, only dreaming children are privy to know
And Jean holding zero cold dinero is the current state
I'm exposing the lack of folding and limos and empty plates
It's all fucked up, writing against the wall sucker
My thoughts are trapped in ink and imagining them being wrapped in mink
But life is routed on roads with broken glass
And potholes and shit
I'm running barefoot on the same street you drive your Rolls in
Luxury gangsta whips and cliques and women
Liquor-driven strippers
Chilling in your coke-infested place of living
I got a stoge and a match, a dream of toking some tracks
[?] cash, so why should niggas listen?
I throwback, like Kodak flicks
That means I go back to old hits
And re-take prints with new spit
Then throw that, too yo rap
You know that trick, whoa
What not ho? I mean that's shit, yo
Suppose you only used to chicks
Who use they tits to boost sales
And boot males who switch the crew they with but really who fails
'Cause rap fans are finicky, your approach is gimmicky
So your turn's over fast, like a young man's virginity
Ms. Grae, the unknown vet, destined to stardom
Reaching higher up than Harlem is to L.E.S. Puerto Ricans
You're blowing smoke and shooting dope
And speaking nothing
Niggas is tripping, video bitches are making a killing
Little girls thinking they're grown women in bra tops
But will it matter soon when the bomb drops, it all stops
We're thinking ghetto warfare, you should be thinking bigger
Money, bitches, and houses, they're still calling you a nigga
This is the mind of a visionary
Imprisoned in matrimony with rapping and shackled
To stacks of tracks and [?]
Black like ya homie selling crack in the back of an alley
You know me in fact
I'm the shadow behind you, creeping slowly
Smoking dro, analyzing ambitions
While I'm fantasizing, planning trips of tanning on islands with [?], Up and down [?] magazine
Poster child for [?] scholars, spittin' kerosene, find me
Maybe finally in colleges with adolescent scholars
PlayStation's for twenty kids making a hundred dollars
Maybe chilling in Hollis with [?] wallets open
Splitting change for dutches for rolling
Munchies for after smoking
The intro, for y'all who ain't know
The first is J-E-N
The second's G-R, then the letter of every first plan
Next, the last to the end of this verse, I'm hoping your spelling it works
'Cause it's the end of the verse
Hahahhahha