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Young Chris;Bun B.
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Lyrics
Stay searching for an outlet
Ghetto's got a hold, in a cell, living hell
Devil's in control
Headed to this goal
I can never break and fold
But the stress'll take a toll
And the progression take it slow
Everybody like, "All you need is one hit, Gunna"
But overnight success turn to one hit wonders
So I continue to grind, till the venue is mine
Till I'm headlined, and my gravesite is my deadline
Flow like red wine, elegant, intelligent
Manners from my mother, young handsome motherfucker
Know when times get tough, I gotta share supper
Treat the set like sex, gotta wear that rubber
And my second opportunity literally could've ruined me
My grind wouldn't let it, I'm destined, immunity
Life's a evil bitch, be selective with your picks
I'ma be rich if I never catch a hit
Young Chris
Now I'm searching for an outlet
Ghetto's got a hold, in a cell, living hell
There's droughts in the hood, niggas wish to live as wells
Shave a nigga's sale, weigh it on that scale
Tell a hater stop telling
Before you get the thirty-eight and rearrange your cerebellum
Till the feds come yelling
Nah, see, rapping was a better look
Rappers see the mirror and I promise you they never look
Searching for their inner self
'Fore I signed with Interscope
I sold dirt, weed, SBs, and some cellphones
Huh, I never claimed to be a street dude
Only time I bent over pots was making cheap noodles
Do you dudes appreciate a nigga truth
Or would you rather me make up some shit I didn't do
And who I didn't shoot, what brick I didn't move
I guess I can't make music because I went to school
Nah, found myself
Searching for a better way, I'm headed for a better day
I gotta get a grip that's on top like the letter A
And on the one, they call me Bun to the letter B
I'm living in a world where they just don't get it, G
They criticize me and try to analyze me
Turn around and despise me, really doesn't surprise me
Misunderstood since birth, for what it's worth
I'm on that never-ending grind to find my place on this earth
A big nigga with girth, so they view me as a thug
Wear a whole lot of gold, so I must be selling drugs
I can't escape my past, chasing after my future
Cause they hate my ass, I take my fate, just pass
Oh, find me in the H-O-V
And I ain't see cause I was wasting time
Spitting at a H-O-E
And now I'm back to square one, starting from scratch
Should I cook up a beat or cook up a batch
Or should I keep on...