Struggle lyrics

[Ad-Lib: Crooked I]
Lord!

[Verse 1: Crooked I]
I'm having rob-a-n*gga 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 n*gga to pass the torch to
Momma stressing cause her rent's due
Can't borrow money from none of the homies, them n*ggas in a pitch, too
My co-connect, he got pinched, too
Andy Dufresne escaping Shawshank, the sh*t 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 b*tching 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
n*gga bounced out, out to Hutchinson, Kansas
Now I gotta find out where this f*ck n*gga 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 sh*t
Lord!
[Chorus: Crooked I]
You don't know about the struggles in this b*tch
Late at night stomach growling, while you cuddle with your b*tch
And they tell me I would even go through troubles if I'm rich
But I rather have something, 'cause having nothing is a b*tch (Lord!)

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