[Verse 1: Game]
Mama told me stay away from them ^!$$%s

Mama told me she had a K for them ^!$$%s
Mama told me she go to pay for them ^!$$%s
While my grandmother told me that she would pray for them ^!$$%s

They just young black and ignorant
Lusting over models and the Benjamins
Got the game twisted like (what?) licorice

When I was rocking lottos moving packs in front of McDonalds
She was looking for me, pulled up in that Old El Dorado
I was running around with Chase, chasing new black wheels

Why would I do that still? That's what got 2Pac killed…
But I use that still cause I won't do that deal
Screw the muzzle in potatoes of that new Mac Mill

What did I learn? Nothing
My papa smoking sherm blunts and
Beating on my moms like her head was a percussion

Tat! Tat! My.45 knocking on your window
She said there would be days like this, Pharrell, drop the instrumental
[Pharrell:]

Yezzir…
[Hook: Nelly Furtado]
I know I must go and I don't know my way

Still don't know where we all came from

[Verse 2: Game]

Crack a Swisher, crack a 5th up
Hennessy pouring like Niagara Falls
Used to watch Magic, he showed me how to ball

Moms working late night, to get a plate right
Had some older brothers, all we did was smoke and play-fight
Wish I could go back to them days cause streets don't play right

Some ^!$$%s hard, other ^!$$%s was the Kid N Play type
Didn't stop me from pretending I was Apollo from Rocky
Working on my dip-game, now nobody wanna box me

Pick and choose, stick and move
So many dudes ended up in sleeping bags on late-night news
But not my mama's song, going around the hood serving customers

She yapping in my ear, but it's louder than the muffler
What I didn't listen to, I wish I would've trusted her
Wish I had a shovel, be digging both of my brothers up

Like “here hug em ma, one last time”
Put a chain on both of them ^!$$%s, they get one last shine
[Hook: Nelly Furtado]

[Verse 3: Game]
Put your block down, recognize a king cause it's my town
Word to my mother you can throw up your rock now

Got off the beef %#@! cause I ain't tryna see my mama in all-black
Right there, crying over hard facts
Now she gotta turn in all her cars and get her house back

Never! She carried me for 9 months so she can have whatever
Plus she taught me how to shoot Berettas, told me that I'd be a king
So RIP to Coretta, if you don't understand that

Then refer to my letter, while I sprinkle
^!$$%s with platinum, from my last album
Got the check, so I signed on the X like Malcolm

Riding through the hood, you hating ^!$$%s like “how come? ”
That ^!$$%s Game got it, heard he selling talcum
Either way, hey playboy, check it, this is the outcome

You might not like it, but my mama psychic
Why you ^!$$%s twisted like the top of a Sidekick?