Diary Of A Broke Nigga

Look inside the eyes of a broke nigga, see the stress on his face

Look at his heart, ain't no love in the place

What's on his mind? Murder, money and mayhem

If he don't see a dollar, somebody visiting Satan

He grabbed his gat from under the mattress, he cocked it back

Then grabbed his gloves and a mask, then threw on his hat

Looked in the mirror and said, times is hard

So hard that he got gray hair on his balls, pause

In the ghetto, you destined to fall

That's why it's a must that we ball

That's why he on the corner lurking, waiting for a motherfucker to slip

Soon as he see the chance, he taking a risk

What should you do when this nigga snatch you out of your whip

empty out your pockets, then snatch what's on your neck and your wrist?

Nothing, cause when the gat in your mouth, so speechless

Any false move, then your brain's on the cement

It gets gutter when niggas starving

Niggas will run inside your house, kill you on target, heartless

This is way beyond a cold thriller

This the diary of a broke nigga

"Pump, pump" Everybody lay down on the ground

Give me whatever you got right now

"Pump, pump" Everybody lay down on the floor

Give me whatever you got, plus more

(When times is hard, and I'm praying for change

My funds is low, when I need some change, I'ma...)

"Pump, pump" Make sure you hide your goods when I come mister

You're dealing with the diary of a broke nigga

It's been a whole month, he still ain't seen no paper

Nigga losing weight every time that he wake up

Plus, he tired of asking niggas for favors

cause when they get mad, they throw it back in his face

That's foul, flagrant, this nigga been slaving

in the spot all week, still ain't seen no paper

That's fucked up, they say don't bite the hand that feeds you

But if that hand don't feed you, where would that leave you?

Now that the stress come, can't turn back the hands of time

Got him thinking back on what he should have done

First thing on his mind now, get a gun

Shit, you gotta eat, and you got a son

and a daughter, now that's two mouths to feed

And that money seem far, like miles to reach

But it's right there, but his brain cloudy

Life on the wrong road, can't reroute it

Caught that nigga, then showed him what that heater do

If you don't feed your wolves, your wolves eat you

This is way beyond a cold thriller

This the diary of a broke nigga