I came up from the bottom
When you're on the ground
Just waiting for the break
Three, four, five bills
That swallow all the pay
I could only picture them
And I think of my brothers gone
Arab head in the chopper
Fatou, Miklod in the ghetto
There's metal, there's concrete
All these little brothers
Yeah, I keep f*cking up
At night, I keep doubting
I hear them whisper about me
And I roll through the city
I'm back on my land
Maybe it's less sh*t
Yeah, I keep f*cking up
At night, I keep doubting
I hear them whisper about me