Fan mail (feat. dina rae)

Nobody wants it more than me
I'm writing stories bout my life
Pumping gangster music and smoking weed
This ghetto poetry, this is what it's suppose to be
I'm certified like I got a stamp from a notary
I'm getting crazy ass fan mail
A kid with no dad, up in his pad doin' crack sales
Telling' me that his mom is never home

I don't think she really cares that I'm drinking liquor, & gettin' blown
I'm getting high just listening to you rhyme sick
& I replied with, homie take your time with
Life, cause I was in your shoes once
Chillin' with the crew, that was makin' them other foos run
There was alotta gangs, we had to choose one
The cops raided us, like every other two months
Take my advice, that ain't the life you wanna live
Make your mother proud, graduate and make it big

I can hear the streets, they talking..
But you don't know the shoes, I've walked in
Only thing I hear is money calling
Don't crucify me, crucify me
I was performing in Chicago, I met this girl we was chillin'
Sipping from the bottle, tellin' me stories
About her young cousin Pablo

Before he passed away, he bumped my music in his Monte Carlo
Was my biggest fan, used to play me everyday
Was even planning to take a trip to LA
Wanted to see me rap in front of a crowd
Told his friends I was raw as fuck, reppin' the brown
Can't believe the next letter this young girl wrote
Your songs kept me alive, last night I almost overdosed
Going through depression, she might be pregnant

And not to mention, her boyfriend didn't reply to the message
I wrote back and said baby your wrong
You got a future and you shouldn't be apart of this song
I know it's hard to be positive, when you feeling hopeless
You can't give up, and hope that heavens doors open
I can hear the streets, they talking
But you don't know the shoes, i've walked in
Only thing I hear is money calling
Don't crucify me, crucify me