Go Time

It's go time It's go time They saying Bazz it's yo time The stopwatch done stopped clocking I ain't stopped cause ain't no time For bullshit Or sidetracking Or paying mind to these setbacks A day off mean a week back Weeks, months gone Gotta eat that All a nigga keep hearing Other niggas up and silently quit All a nigga keep seeing Is a cover up No life with risks These 9 to 5 shifts gotta see some sort of pivot Before my brain meet a gun And I just call it quits I'm done with throwing on mitts And 12 rounds with maybes and what-ifs Can you feel some sort of hunger Anger a stranger sitting outside of the fence containing anger Cause I'm good friends with the word failure I really don't no obituary next to my fucking alias Giving back to that nigga God what he made Mama Hitting the ground really fucking hurt My whereabouts really making it work Everyday I gotta hear about another made-it story on my way to work Meanwhile I'm stuck flipping boxes Migraines and no way to stop them More burdens that got me promising that my luck won't keep me from pulling the glock And that boom you hear is the sound of my body dropping Promise you it's coming It's eventual Blood sweat tears Mixed with chemicals From teams of medical Paramedics coming several He's dangerous So at gunpoint includes all these federals It's go time It's go time They saying Bazz it's yo time The stopwatch done stopped clocking I ain't stopped cause ain't no time Home stretch is coming Long range we gunning Move forward or nothing Wrong move we done in Home stretch is coming Long range we gunning Move forward or nothing Wrong move we done in No bullshit Or sidetracking Or paying mind to these setbacks A day off mean a week back Weeks, months gone Gotta eat that Tired of eating these frozen meals Tired of buying the clearance items Tired of my feet having no feeling Tired of seeing mirrors being reminded Feels like I've been walking forever Under my legs Scratched and tethered Under my heart Nothing supports it Under these sheets Some living bullshit Maybe I'm being too harsh Maybe I'm trying too hard To do 4-man jobs Do it all with these 2 arms But that's what mama would want A son that works himself to the bone A man that makes himself Earn his house and home Go beast like Thanos Collect these stones Build that bitch yourself I was raised for living hell I was barely praised this year Still asking myself how'd i get here? Now time It's go time Gotta roll them dice And flip that coin Gotta own my mic And work my loins And pray that the blick ain't my only way home