A Little Story

Lyrics

[Intro] Here's a little story that must be told Here's a little story that must be told [Verse] The story of a young girl Praying for those who chose her to notice This golden child also entitled, the holy grail drinker For sure a soldier trooper Maneuver through your crew and noticed only overseas And quoted like a [?] maneuver Picture different, my vision position to capture moments And living it, only dreaming children are privy to know And Jean holding zero cold dinero is the current state I'm exposing the lack of folding and limos and empty plates It's all fucked up, writing against the wall sucker My thoughts are trapped in ink and imagining them being wrapped in mink But life is routed on roads with broken glass And potholes and shit I'm running barefoot on the same street you drive your Rolls in Luxury gangsta whips and cliques and women Liquor-driven strippers Chilling in your coke-infested place of living I got a stoge and a match, a dream of toking some tracks [?] cash, so why should niggas listen? I throwback, like Kodak flicks That means I go back to old hits And re-take prints with new spit Then throw that, too yo rap You know that trick, whoa What not ho? I mean that's shit, yo Suppose you only used to chicks Who use they tits to boost sales And boot males who switch the crew they with but really who fails 'Cause rap fans are finicky, your approach is gimmicky So your turn's over fast, like a young man's virginity Ms. Grae, the unknown vet, destined to stardom Reaching higher up than Harlem is to L.E.S. Puerto Ricans You're blowing smoke and shooting dope And speaking nothing Niggas is tripping, video bitches are making a killing Little girls thinking they're grown women in bra tops But will it matter soon when the bomb drops, it all stops We're thinking ghetto warfare, you should be thinking bigger Money, bitches, and houses, they're still calling you a nigga This is the mind of a visionary Imprisoned in matrimony with rapping and shackled To stacks of tracks and [?] Black like ya homie selling crack in the back of an alley You know me in fact I'm the shadow behind you, creeping slowly Smoking dro, analyzing ambitions While I'm fantasizing, planning trips of tanning on islands with [?], Up and down [?] magazine Poster child for [?] scholars, spittin' kerosene, find me Maybe finally in colleges with adolescent scholars PlayStation's for twenty kids making a hundred dollars Maybe chilling in Hollis with [?] wallets open Splitting change for dutches for rolling Munchies for after smoking The intro, for y'all who ain't know The first is J-E-N The second's G-R, then the letter of every first plan Next, the last to the end of this verse, I'm hoping your spelling it works 'Cause it's the end of the verse Hahahhahha