lirik lagu trae tha truth - hard 2 smile
[talking – trae]
you know i never did understand
why they always told me to smile
sh-t it ain’t too much sh-t out here to smile fo’
real talk – you know it’s still -ssh0l-s by nature, peep game
[verse 1 – trae]
i remember comin up labeled the lil’n-gga
watchin n-ggas f-ck over they own, but see i kept it realer
but bein real ain’t always what n-ggas make it to be
i never thought we’d make it and i’d have n-ggas hatin a g
i got enough sh-t that i deal with on the day to day
pennitentaries and life after death don’t seem to go away
even though i never know the outcome
somethin say to pray, and try to do my best to understand he right around the way
i got a call from mr.rogers just the other day – telling me he by my side
i’m like what the f-ck you talkin bout – until he told me loinna died
it f-cked me up so much i couldn’t even go the wait
but if her family call i’m a make sure that they straight
it’s like this part of my life i live is d-mn near mastered
the mo’people i love, the mo’they get took away faster
sometimes i feel i talk to god alittle mo’then a pastor
probably to live and make sure my son never become a basterd
i never been the one to quit, i always been a leader
but i feel this world is like a b-tch and i know i don’t need her
if i knew it was this i’d never took the time to meet her
so i feel the frown across my face, the only way to greet her
in the process of bein’trae, i missed out as a child
probably because reality my style
and they told my cousin death before he’s thirty after checkin his file
he d-mn near twenty – eight so how the f-ck am i suppose to smile?
[talking – styles p]
i don’t know my n-gga, i ask myself the same sh-t everyday
how the f-ck am i suppose to smile?
life’s real over here, you know
[verse 2 – styles p]
styles don’t smile, the hood too foul
the lil’n-ggas is wild, man lost trial
hit e’m with some numbers he ain’t even gon’chow
he ain’t even sleepin, he been thinkin ’bout his child
it’s real f-cked up but he won’t see him for awhile
same bullsh-t tryna get you a money pile
we all see the reefer, or the k!ll – doors locked
i keep the tech with the air hose c-cked
now i don’t wanna shoot or get shot, but paniro’s not
gon’f-ck with these f-ck n-ggas i air those blocks
it’s real hard to sleep, when it’s money on the mind
murder on the mind, puffin on a dutch with a fist full of iron
somebody’s mom cryin, cause somebody’s boy dyin
it’s the same ole sh-t, from the wait to the funeral same ole trip
crack money, rap money the same ole grip
ask trae could i smile out in texas, livin wreckless
said the cops gon’get you and n-ggas’ll leave you breathless
sh-t i’m a winner, mo’like a sinner
tryna make it to dinner – then live after breakfast
[talking – styles p]
you know, trae – s.p
how the f-ck are we suppose to smile?
n-gga answer me that
and maybe i’ll f-ckin smile, you know
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