My Life-The Game/Lil Wayne

And I'm grindin til I'm tired Cause they said you ain'tt grindin til you tired So I'm grindin with my eyes wide, looking to find A way through the day, a light for the night Dear Lord: you done took so many of my people I'm just wondering why you haven't taken my life Like what the hell am I doing right? My life Take me away from the hood, like a state penitentiary Take me away from the hood, in a casket or a Bentley Take me away, like I overdosed on cocaine Or take me away, like a bullet from Kurt Cobain Suicide, I'm from a Windy City, like Do or Die From a block close to where Biggie was crucified That was Brooklyn's Jesus, shot for no ****ing reason And you wonder why Kanye wears Jesus pieces? Cause that's Jesus, people - and Game, he's the equal Hated on so much, "Passion of Christ" need a sequel Yeah, like Roc-a-Fella needed Siegel Like I needed my father, but he needed a needle I need some meditation so I can lead my people They asking why, why did John Lennon leave The Beatles? And why every hood nigga feed off evil? Answer my question fore this bullet leave this Desert Eagle We are not the same, I am a Martian So approach my Phantom doors with caution You see them 24's spinning? I earned 'em And I ain't no preacher but, here's my Erick Sermon So eat this black music and tell me how it taste now And **** Jesse Jackson cause it ain't about race now Sometimes I think about my life, with my face down Then I see my sons and put on that Kanye smile Damn, I know his mama proud And since you helped me sell my dream we can share my momma now And like M.J.B., no more drama now Living the good life, me and Common on common ground I spit crack, and niggas could drive it out of town Got a Chris Paul mind state, I'm never out of bounds My life used to be empty like a Glock without a round Now my life full, like a chopper with a thousand rounds Walk through the gates of hell, see my Impala parked in front With the high beams on, me and the devil sharing chronic blunts Listening to the Chronic album playing backwards Shooting at pictures of Don Imus for target practice My mind ****ed up, so I cover it with a Raider hood I'm from the city that made you mother****ers afraid of Suge Made my grandmother pray for good It never made her happy, but I bet that new Mercedes could Ain't no bars, but niggas can't escape the hood And it took so many of my niggas, that I should hate the hood But it's real niggas like me that make the hood Riding slow in that Phantom just the way I should With the top back, in my Sox hat I'm "Paid in Full", the nigga Alpo couldn't stop that Even if they brought the nigga Pac back I'll still keep this mother****er cocked back