It Was Written

Six million ways to die

Six million ways to get rich

Everybody keep tellin' me, "Make a club record"

You ain't trappin' no more, stop makin drug records

You got a daughter 'bout to come, stop makin' thug records

I brought that money back fast, I had the plug flexin'

Welcome to Harlem, el Barrio, that's the drug section

Hit your bitch with my jeans on, ain't makin' love naked

I got love for my loco but I know cuz reckless

I ain't gotta sleep in the projects, I did enough stressin'

My father was a rollin' stone but taught me one lesson

Do your dirt by yourself, your friends be the ones tellin'

I knew it broke my mother's heart to know her son sellin'

I had coke in my dresser, trifling as ever

Had a dream Biggie featured me on Life After

I be with my same ****, I don't really like rappers

**** can't make a song for nothin' but they nice actors

Go and get a movie role, low baggin' up tuna rolls, raw shit

I come from a block where seen it but never saw shit

I be at the juice bar, my wheat grass and bark shit

My youngin' just came from up north, he want to park shit

Tryna teach him somethin' 'bout life and how we started

Lower class poverty, homies from jail callin' me

Playin' the number everyday but never hit the lottery

Liquor store on every corner, might as well get drunk

I remember that free lunch wasn't shootin', we would jump stones

**** like the end of the blunt, traps load up

I told papi I got him by the end of the month

I was thinkin' 'bout 550's with the cinnamon guts

These shots'll blow your mind away, now your memory dust

And memory of

I got a J.F. Kennedy buzz

Presidential called enterprise, I need another rental

Tryna take a package down to North Carolina

Maybe buy some Ferragamo, I'm so focused on the commas

If you never been broke, it's gon' be hard to feel me

Only Allah get my flow, it's gon' be hard to kill me

They say practice make perfect, we at it everyday

Thinkin' 'bout that consignment, sometimes I never paid

It was written, I'm gifted homie, come learn somethin'

Conversations 'bout paper, homie, let's burn somethin'

It was written, I'm gifted homie, come learn somethin'

Conversations 'bout paper, homie, let's burn somethin'

It's hard to stop what's already in motion

I ain't gotta hit your blunt, I've already been smokin'

G-Star denims on my Shmurda shit

In '08 my mental was really on some murder shit

'Cause nothin' was work enough

Just to pass the time, started workin' out

Me and my **** Jay Black from way back

He a Bronx ****, met him in Queens

Butch crib, met up with fiends

Imagine Nas signed you, hell of a dream

Somebody pinch me

Promise nothin' they say ever gettin' to me

Used to watch House Party, not kiddin', play listen to me

This that talk that make the hustlers wanna open shop

This that stash house talk, don't let 'em know the spot

This that talk taht got my city wantin' to rap again

This that all black everything like an African

This taht middle of the summer in a trench coat

Glock 19 remindin' them of how you been broke

If you never been broke, it's gon' be hard to feel me

Only Allah get my flow, it's gon' be hard to kill me

They say practice make perfect, we at it everyday

Thinkin' 'bout that consignment, sometimes I never paid

It was written, I'm gifted homie, come learn somethin'

Conversations 'bout paper, homie, let's burn somethin'

It was written, I'm gifted homie, come learn somethin'

Conversations 'bout paper, homie, let's burn somethin'