Times Is Hard - Bushwick Bill

Times that is hard as a 21 years

Ain’t got a dime and ain’t seen a chick in a year

I’m catching drama from my mama on down

It’s rough as fuck, but homie, I’m staying down

Now I have done everything from Everclear to sherman sticks

I sold dope around town

I’d stomp niggas down

Rolling through my hood like a superstar

Turning corner after corner in my brand new cars

These hoes used to call me baller

But that was 'fore I lost my grip, now they barely even call a

Player cause they know I’m broke

No Rolex and no Benz, just spokes (shit)

Now that I’m back to life, and that I’m back to reality

Got one life which ain’t shit without a salary

I’m spitting game so y’all can feel me

Man, I’mma make it out the ghetto if it kills me

And Lil' Jay will make it real

Y’all know the deal

Now if it wasn’t for moms I wouldn’t have no world

You stood tall through it all, so you go, girl

I know things ain’t all they used to be

I had to slow my roll, see, trouble’s getting used to me

I gots to make you a proud mother

No more crack slanging, I gots to be a proud brother

And take control of my destiny

I can’t let these streets get the best of me

It’s kinda rough starting over but it’s worth the pain

Instead of getting stuck with the same ol' same

Stretched like a rubberband, busting flicks

In the pen for life with some off-brand tricks

Ain’t nobody knowin about the pain you feel

I’mma change my life, mama, that’s on the real

I pray to God He make you feel me

Man, I’mma make it out the ghetto if it kill me

And mama, that’s real

No more playing mack daddy for you skeezers

I got one lover, I love her, so I’mma please her

And leave you tramps alone

Since I’m getting shit straight, I’m starting at home

Now which one of y’all was down and didn’t clown when I was sleeping on the flo'

My real girl, that’s who, that’s why I love her so

Got two sons and no daughters

I’m barely feeding both of my kids but I still gots to be a father

That I used to want pops to be

This ain’t no dis to ya, pops, cause you’re still my g

I’m on a long road to nowhere if I don’t change

Life with no crime on my mind feels strange

Working like a motherfucker, slick like a Benz seat

Backing off my old hustle, trying to make these ends meet

I pray to God he make you feel me

Man, I’mma make it out the ghetto if it kills me

And niggas, that’s real