Wants

Verse 1

Yo
What's a dollar to a rich nigga?
A whole hundred like a ten when your pockets deep
A whole hundred keep the lights on when your funds deplete
A whole hundred been the difference in the food we eat
I put the work in at my day job, but I’m still in debt
I follow laws I never rob like politicians do
I try to lobby for the people, but they rather watch a TV
Cuz the drama between Stevie, Joseline and prolly Mimi
More important than progression, to these fickle minds
My niggas wanna see me shine so they worry bout me
My Auntie wanna see me thrive so she worry bout me
So when you want a beat for free, I can’t worry bout you
When you approach me bout a show, I hope you come with money
You dropped $200 on some Jays, you better step correct
No neglect to the ones that always held me down
When I turn king, we gon equally divide the crown
Yea

Chorus

I’m sick of digging in pockets,
Inside my home feeling homeless
I lost my soul to a woman, who left me heartless, the omen
That I created from karma, is as poetic as Homer,
I keep on doubting my talents, I blocked your number for closure

What’s a poor man’s dream in this rich country
Money and drugs is really it for me
Nigga is this really it for me?
It for me?

Verse 2

What’s a poor man’s dream in this rich country
Liquor, money, bad women and chicken nuggets?
Play the lotto to power ball, but break your budget
That marijuana don’t feel good on empty stomachs
We paralyzed by our fear of loss yet still running
I fell in love with the music shit as a lil youngin’
Then I met artists that posture up and kiss ass
This whole life is a roller coaster like Six Flags
To get cash you might sell soul like Nike
Just do it my nigga, salvations’s really not likely
For colored folk, tryna appease the Joneses and please whitey
No inclusion could change the scope of this twisted system
Imprisoned by status, gimmicks and indecision
I lay motionless reflecting on my avid sinning
Will I change or feel the pain of a thousand wishes?
Dying by the fire of my vicious inhibitions

Chorus

I’m sick of digging in pockets,
Inside my home feeling homeless
I lost my soul to a woman, who left me heartless, the omen
That I created from karma, is as poetic as Homer
I keep on doubting my talent, I blocked your number for closure

What’s a poor man’s dream in this rich country
Money and drugs is really it for me
Nigga is this really it for me?
It for me?