Released: January 1, 2007

Songwriter: Bread Winners’ Association Kevin Gates

Producer: Bread Winners’ Association

[Verse 1]
You wouldn’t believe
A lifetime death trying to grab me
No lifeline no respect for the family
Keep him out of reach
It ain’t safe mama pray for me
Same niggas I love and I trust
Plotting on taking me
Scream in the booth
For the green I’mma shoot
Die from a crash
Imma bleed in a coupe
On my wrist and my dick
I’m deeply in love with her
Hurt when I found out
My best friend fucking her
Gates wanna get paid
Or I’m running in your crib
You don’t give me a deal
I’m breaking one of your ribs
Now I know the real
Nothing ever certain
When I see a mother hurting
From a brother that was murdered
Death gotta be easy
Life is stupid
It’ll leave a nigga slumped
In the trunk of the Buick
Grandmother shocked
And no longer recouping
Blaming me for shit
I ain’t have nothing to do with

[Chorus]
True life story - option to tell
I kept it all street
From the block - to the cell
Bullets never stop
When they pop from the shell
Hail by the lord
Got shot never fell
Even when it seem rough
Gotta get the cream up
Face got scraped
Trying to get it cleaned up
Dead Game still lifting the team up
Anything between us gotta get machined up

[Verse 2]
I fell in love with a crime
Committed with a passion
Dealing with attraction
In and out of traffic
Tasha, open her legs and I’m fucking her
Back to the mattress spread under the comforter
When she get to squealing
Then the meat get to drilling
Then she start making faces
With her feet to the ceiling
Even though she willing
Not thinking of it really
Too eager for the feeling
It could all be a setup
Tiptoe down
I put a murder in the clip
Took a hit
The shit was kind of early in the year
Still the gun blast
Give you one to the stomach
Don’t drag when you flash
It’ll smother your punches
Had to take Rodney
They was getting dumb paid
They was getting all the money
We was getting dumb played
I pumped cane
And only making chump change
Hustling the white line
Traffic in the rental lane

[Chorus]
True life story - option to tell
I kept it all street
From the block - to the cell
Bullets never stop
When they pop from the shell
Hail by the lord
Got shot never fell
Even when it seem rough
Gotta get the cream up
Face got scraped
Trying to get it cleaned up
Dead Game still lifting the team up
Anything between us gotta get machined up

[Verse 3]
It ain’t nothing to squeeze
On the strength of the struggle
I put that on the *CRRICK*
My rib and my muscle
Let him know I got him
He flinch, I'mma touch him
A breath and a wish
Couldn’t fix a concussion
One decade - one love and one life
No hatred - no pain and no strife
Father, you gave me fair warning of the streets
I’m the opposite of everything you wanted me to be
My life been a lie
Wanna know what’s up with that
Mother tell me she love me
But I don’t her I love her back
(They in the hood) I go and see em when I can
I got niggas in jail I go and see them when I can
Bullshit people rather heat em with the blam
I tote the type of shit that when I squeeze em
It don’t jam
Under red tape I'mma 86' baby
Hear that new Gates real niggas go crazy

[Chorus]
True life story - option to tell
I kept it all street
From the block - to the cell
Bullets never stop
When they pop from the shell
Hail by the lord
Got shot never fell
Even when it seem rough
Gotta get the cream up
Face got scraped
Trying to get it cleaned up
Dead Game still lifting the team up
Anything between us gotta get machined up

Kevin Gates

Kevin Jerome Gilyard aka Kevin Gates was born February 5, 1986, in New Orleans, Louisiana but grew up in Baton Rouge. He began his career in 2006 as an artist on Dead Game Records.

Following a short stint in prison, in 2011, Kevin created BWA (Bread Winner’s Association), which is partnered with Atlantic Records. He lives with his wife, Dreka Gates, and now his two children Khaza and Islah, which he named his hit album of 2016.