Now lord you know... just how hard i try,
to live my life.
til I see some light... or even better..
way over way a new day, someday
yesterday was filled with sorrow but tomorrow
it gets better you know
believe me, I know
verse 1: Cam'ron
With my muscle you be dazzled, but hustlin's a hassle.
Percuset, Demorel, capsules and packets.
cops wanna cuff me, niggas wanna clap you,
bitches might burn you, they runnin' with that clap too.
but the monster made it, do it for those incarcerated,
who had it confiscated. hate it,
when they take powder, up state he take showers,
baby mom on greyhound for eight hours.
see her man face to face through a glass,
on the phone ten years he got chasin' that cash.
and he had the game in a smash,
fell like the towers when the planes went on crash.
it wasn't 9/11, but it was 9-1-1,
gave him 9 plus 1, dropped a dime on dun.
i told him get his nine and run,
turned himself in i had to find that dumb, that's too long.
Verse 2: Cam'ron
eh yo them niggas from the 3-2, said i can't breeze through
the fourty if i cop bottles, we can't believe you.
me who? please boo. landin' in that G2,
same color as beef stew, favorite letters :GQ.
that's me, true. peace blue, hebrew
lawyer on my side keep me out of jail to fee stoop, skeet whoo
but it might lead to, that R2-D2, the mobsters creep through.
we da new PE, shittin PU.
To da hood y'all don't need me, i need you.
cause my mission's the same, you couldn't envision the pain,
always a snitch in the game. what you want prison or fame?
neither one, dun, long as my digits are same.
he lookin' frigid, diggin' make sure them digits get changed. (why?)
cause i can't be in hell's cell, child of Mell' Mel
cash and hell rells. zeek doin' three, he even fell, hell, he comin home in 07 and 12 cells.
cause you musta known, i can't trust the phones.
for the dough, you be like d'oh stuck at home.
Verse 3: Cam'ron
nowadays, dog, they raid up in the ballparks,
blaze 'em when they cross sharks,
we raiders of da lost ark.
i'm like a ballplayer, shake up and cross narcs.
they get mad when i lay up in the Porsche Box.
more props, R.I.P. my poor pops.
can't see his son shine like the Four Tops.
my antennas will block the scanners,
i got blammaz yo drop ya hammers.
lawyers to watch lawyers,
cameras to watch cameras,
nannys to watch grandma,
and pajamas, i snuck out the watch santa,
now look at killa, you gon' watch santana
(Hook til end)