Game Ain't Based On Sympathy

Reminiscing on that, uh...
 I remember they used to give us that free cheese...
 A big block of that shit
 Yeah, man I'm glad y'all ain't gotta get that cheese
 Man, I thank God my kids ain't gotta see that cheese
 Yo, you know what I'm saying?
 You gotta feed it to them raw. Feel me?
 Renovating the ghettoes, moving me elsewhere
 Daddy didn't see pension they took his healthcare
 Affordable housing and they fed us welfare
 Showed us Tony Montana, teachers couldn't care less
 A young prince in Miami, son of a pharaoh
 This is deeper than raps, I can't run from the echoes
 And I hear the screams
 Under my mattress box springs, I still see the C.R.E.A.M
 Mac 11 next to Grammy invitations
 I'm never quiet, tell my niggas all my aspirations
 No more beefing with rappers
 It's just murder or nothing
 New positions to master, I perfected the others
 Niggas shoot for the Magic, never heard of Matumbo
 These are lucrative assets, golden words that will mumble you
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 This the biggest...
 Corner store was the stage, I needed management
 In a mansion that I could squeeze another phantom in
 Negative people just seem to fail first
 I said I'm a genius, put in the legwork
 You step to my niggas, suggest you stay alert
 No, I've never been lenient, nor a man of mercy
 I stick my dick in her tell her my net worth
 Then we stare at each other and see who catch first
 A pretty chick, she resembles Stacy Dash
 If it was her, she had to kiss my feet and lick my ass
 Pussy nigga want war, til' it's "bonjour"
 Those hitters sitting a bomb outside your mom door
 Got your people alarmed cause we the armed force
 Easy as leaking a song before I go on tour
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 Uh
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 Gang violence ongoing, let's fight our own wars
 Chicago been out of hand, the city lost its soul
 Funeral every weekend or either you cremated
 Homie's son, he been murdered, he didn't seem faded
 Holding guns on the gram, out of my league baby
 Real killers and hitters would rather live nameless
 I got a homie I know with a twenty body count
 Maybe once or twice a month he leave the house
 Older brother, type to get a curly perm
 Pappy Mason type respect for holding thirty birds
 Never was a gangster, I just wanted in
 No longer could I deny that I wanted a Benz
 Booby gave me blessings and a root for me to win
 I showed him my ambition in two different fields
 Also, said I was a rapper, Booby here it is
 Real talk my nigga, here it is