Tragedy

Lyrics

[Intro: Bigga Rankin] (Think it's a game?) (Pipe that shit up, TnT) (Real Nigga— Real Nigga— Real Nigga Radio) (Ant Chamberlain, that's a hundred points) The tragedy in a man's life is not having lived while you was alive Learning to love and lose is a part of life It's never having loved anyone or anything that's the biggest loss of all Wish Me Well 3, the streets is waitin' [Verse: YFN Lucci] Yeah, look, never put your trust in a nigga, my mama told me that I can't do no dirt with you niggas, you can't wait to rat Big homie keep sayin' he got me, I can't wait on that No offense, but I'ma go get mine, just pray I make it back Okay, my main man down, his brother died and he want pay back Have you ever seen a grown man cry in a Maybach? Talkin' to God, the hood do anything to have Lay back Lord know we'll do anything to have Quay back Look, free Dog, Joe and Kenny, I can't wait to see y'all Miss me with that sucker shit, boy, don't piss me off We ain't duckin' no wrecks, I just wrecked my new haul Had to cut the dead weight, I ain't no damn U-Haul Long live KO It's hard to spot the snakes when the grass grow And everybody fake, but it gon' soon show The street dirty, what you think I keep a broom for? Huh, all this damn pain, I be needin' medication I ain't need no education, I just stayed in rotation Real nigga Never let a sucker violate me, I'm a gravedigger Stop comparin' me to your big homie, bitch, I'm way bigger Huh, ring on my finger, that shit way bigger Huh, thinkin' they them niggas, bitch, we way bigger, huh, huh I had to cut lil' shorty off, that nigga too bitter Before the song, I had them racks in the middle, huh Now I say big bankroll, can't fit them racks in my denim Ayy, my lil' rich-ass bro been gettin' racks since he was little, huh Me and money back to back splats, we was little, huh Before I was the man, I was the man in the middle, huh Oh, before the bank jugg, we had plans to get richer, huh Playin' with that pistol, I got a plan for my lil' one, huh Look, they know I cashed out, I ain't put down on no nothin', huh I ain't lookin' for no handout, I don't want nothin' from no nigga, huh Six years later, house got elevators House got hella acres, nosy-ass neighbors I got my own label, huh I don't need no money machine, I count my own paper [Outro: YFN Lucci] Look, tell me why these so-called thugs act like they shootin' shit up But niggas don't got guns, these niggas so made up Talk tough online, these niggas funny as fuck Mm, mm