My Life lyrics

by

Jadakiss


[Intro: Meek Mill]
The world is yours and everything in it
You gonna go get it?

[Verse 1: Meek Mill]
Mama couldn't save me, daddy dead so he couldn't raise me
I'm still tripping off them hoes that played me
Same b*tches fronting on me when I had my baby
It's crazy, and n*ggas say they made me
Taking credit from my mama, sh*t amaze me
How n*ggas talking down when I'm not around
But every time I'm in the building, shhh, not a sound
I line my haters up and clap them down
That choppa have n*gga dancing like he Bobby Brown
I'm well-respected in my city, even out of town
And don't ever tuck my chain
n*gga, how that sound? How that look?
We don't live by the book, we just live by the code
A lot of n*ggas got exposed when feds came through
They was dropping names too
n*ggas say I changed up but I'm with the same crew
I was always told to get the money and remain you
Never let these pus*y n*ggas tell you what you can't do
Every time they said that I left, that was when I came through
Range new, .38 special when the flame blue
Just in case I gotta flame you
What a feeling when them people tryna frame you
Lock you in a cell when detain you
Rather die before I go out working like I'm Django
I'm gone...
[Chorus: French Montana]
n*ggas want me dead, everyday that I wake up
f*ck you talking ‘bout, you ain’t talking paper
And here's another one, here's another one
Streets watching
A new b*tch, a new car
Her ass soft, I go hard
And here's another one, here's another one
Streets watching

[Verse 2: Meek Mill]
If I f*ck her, I'm brainless
She f*ck me, she might get famous
She might get a chance to ride jet and drive Ranges
Money'll have your closest friends turning into strangers
That's dangerous, n*ggas shoot and they'll aim at us
Shooting in the sky, you tryna hit the angels up
n*ggas tripping like y'all dipping off angel dust
And all these Cubans 'round my neck getting tangled up
I only f*ck with bad b*tches that be trained to f*ck
Five n*ggas, ten b*tches run a train on us
Looking at these rap n*ggas they all lame as f*ck
Mini skirts, skinny jeans with the strangest cuts
I stick to the script, switch like stick on the shift
Early mornings in the kitchen like I'm whippin' the grits
n*gga, I could score your b*tch with a flick of the wrist
Swear that Audemar flashlight like I'm flicking a pic
[Chorus: French Montana]
n*ggas want me dead, everyday that I wake up
f*ck you talking ‘bout, you ain’t talking paper
And here's another one, here's another one
Streets watching
A new b*tch, a new car
Her ass soft, I go hard
And here's another one, here's another one
Streets watching
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