Struggle

[Ad-Lib: Crooked I]
Lord!

[Verse 1: Crooked I]
I'm having rob-a-nigga thoughts, like the Horseshoe
Got all the tools in my box, I'm a nut, missing a corkscrew
Sittin' on my porch thinking this rapping ain't gon' happen
'Cause faggots reppin' that, like I'm the wrong nigga to pass the torch to
Momma stressing cause her rent's due
Can't borrow money from none of the homies, them niggas in a pitch, too
My co-connect, he got pinched, too
Andy Dufresne escaping Shawshank, the shit I been through (Lord!)
Refrigerator empty, inner anger in me
Simply waitin' and incubatin', for if a hater tempt me
I'ma disintegrate him quickly, spray the .380
Till bullets penetrate his kidney, sometimes I just wanna
Fall asleep in the tub loaded on drugs like I was imitating Whitney
Talk to God, just pray that he forgive me in sleep
(Rest!) Depressed, I been stressin'
Weight of the world on my chest, like I'm bench pressing the planet
I get dressed, on a one man mission
Hopped in my bucket with a bad transmission, my hand's itching
Yeah, I'm past bitching and complaining and I ain't tryna land in
Nobody's damn prison, but I gotta take a chance
Man, listen, my pops was a magician like David Blaine
Mixed with a mime, he disappeared, didn't say a thing
Nigga bounced out, out to Hutchinson, Kansas
Now I gotta find out where this fuck nigga pants is
Man of the house, threw on his trousers
Nothing like a child in them pedophile browsers
But still a child lost his innocence and a frown lived where the smile did
Snatch purses and rap verses, I was a wild kid
Fast forward to this gun in your face
Mouth covered in tape, I want what's in your safe
I want you to resist so I can take all my anger out
On somebody who ain't got nuttin' to do with this shit
Lord!

[Chorus: Crooked I]
You don't know about the struggles in this bitch
Late at night stomach growling, while you cuddle with your bitch
And they tell me I would even go through troubles if I'm rich
But I rather have something, 'cause having nothing is a bitch (Lord!)

[Post-Chorus: Crooked I]
La La La La La
You don't know about the struggles in this bitch (Lord!)
La La La La La
You don't know about the struggles in this bitch (Lord!)

[Verse 2: Crooked I]
God bless the child that got his own, let’s see
I ain’t got nothing, I wonder will God bless me?
I ain’t saying being rich will make me stress free
But I rather see what that do while I’m on my jet skis
Yeah right, I’m hungry err' night
And I never smile, got my poker face air tight
Down on my knees accidentally using profanity
I can’t even say a prayer right, I just want a pair of Nikes
I just want to wear a white tee and keep my hair tight
I just want a fair fight, I just want a fair life
Is that too much to ask for?
Tell me, is that too much to ask for?

[Chorus: Crooked I]
You don't know about the struggles in this bitch
Late at night stomach growling, while you cuddle with your bitch
And they tell me I would even go through troubles if I'm rich
But I rather have something, 'cause having nothing is a bitch (Lord!)