Tragedy

[Intro: Bigga Rankin]
(Think it's a game?)
(Pipe that shit up, TnT)
(Real Nigga— Real Nigga— Real Nigga Radio)
(Ant Chamberlain, that's a hundred points)
The tragedy in a man's life is not having lived while you was alive
Learning to love and lose is a part of life
It's never having loved anyone or anything that's the biggest loss of all
Wish Me Well 3, the streets is waitin'

[Verse: YFN Lucci]
Yeah, look, never put your trust in a nigga, my mama told me that
I can't do no dirt with you niggas, you can't wait to rat
Big homie keep sayin' he got me, I can't wait on that
No offense, but I'ma go get mine, just pray I make it back
Okay, my main man down, his brother died and he want pay back
Have you ever seen a grown man cry in a Maybach?
Talkin' to God, the hood do anything to have Lay back
Lord know we'll do anything to have Quay back
Look, free Dog, Joe and Kenny, I can't wait to see y'all
Miss me with that sucker shit, boy, don't piss me off
We ain't duckin' no wrecks, I just wrecked my new haul
Had to cut the dead weight, I ain't no damn U-Haul
Long live KO
It's hard to spot the snakes when the grass grow
And everybody fake, but it gon' soon show
The street dirty, what you think I keep a broom for?
Huh, all this damn pain, I be needin' medication
I ain't need no education, I just stayed in rotation
Real nigga
Never let a sucker violate me, I'm a gravedigger
Stop comparin' me to your big homie, bitch, I'm way bigger
Huh, ring on my finger, that shit way bigger
Huh, thinkin' they them niggas, bitch, we way bigger, huh, huh
I had to cut lil' shorty off, that nigga too bitter
Before the song, I had them racks in the middle, huh
Now I say big bankroll, can't fit them racks in my denim
Ayy, my lil' rich-ass bro been gettin' racks since he was little, huh
Me and money back to back splats, we was little, huh
Before I was the man, I was the man in the middle, huh
Oh, before the bank jugg, we had plans to get richer, huh
Playin' with that pistol, I got a plan for my lil' one, huh
Look, they know I cashed out, I ain't put down on no nothin', huh
I ain't lookin' for no handout, I don't want nothin' from no nigga, huh
Six years later, house got elevators
House got hella acres, nosy-ass neighbors
I got my own label, huh
I don't need no money machine, I count my own paper

[Outro: YFN Lucci]
Look, tell me why these so-called thugs act like they shootin' shit up
But niggas don't got guns, these niggas so made up
Talk tough online, these niggas funny as fuck
Mm, mm