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Smile (Feat. Jadakiss & Styles P)

You know

I never did understand why they always told me to smile

Shit

It ain't too much shit I gave a smile for

Real talk

Yo still a asshole by nature

Peep gameI remember comin' up able to love nigga watchin' niggas fuck over

They over sea I kept it reala

But bein' real ain't really always what niggas make it to be

I never thought we'd make it and I'd have niggas hatin' a G

I got enough shit that I deal with on the day to day

Penitentiary's the life after death don't seem to go away

Even though I never know the outcomes it's always safe to pray

And try to do my best to understand he write a rhyme away

I got a call from Mr. Rogers just the other day tellin' me he by my side

I'm like what the fuck you talkin' 'bout 'til he told me Lorna died

It f***ed me up so much I couldn't even go to the wake

But if her family called I'm gon' make sure that they straight

It's like this part of my life I live is damn near mastered

The more people I love the more they get took away faster

Sometimes I feel I talk to God a lil more than the pastor

Prob'ly been livin' to make sure my son never become a bastard

I've never been the one to quit I've always been the leader

But I feel this world is like a bitch and I know I don't need her

If I ever had this I never took the time to meet her

So I feel a frown across my face the only way to greet her

In the process of bein' Trae I missed out as a child

Prob'ly 'cause reality must stop

And they told my cousin death before he thirty after checkin' his pile

He died at 28 so how the fuck am I supposed to smile shitI don't know my nigga

I ask myself the same shit everyday

How the fuck am I supposed to smile

Life's real over here though

Ya knowStyles don't smile

The hood too foul

The lil' niggas is wild

Men lost trial

Hit 'em with some numbers he ain't eatin' doin' chow

He ain't even sleepin' he been thinkin' 'bout his child

It's real fucked up but he won't see him for a while

Same bullshit try'na get you a money pile

You don't see the reefer or the jail doors locked

I keep a tech with the air holes cocked

Now I don't wanna shoot or get shot

But Pinero's not

Gon' fuck with these fuck niggas or air those Lox

It's real hard to sleep when its money on the mind and

Murder on the mind

Puffin' on the dutch with a fist full of iron

Somebody mom cryin' 'cause somebody boy dyin'

It's the same ol' shit

Wait till the funeral

Same ol' trip

Crack money rap money

The same ol' grip

As Trae could've smiled out in Texas

Livin' reckless

If the cops gon' get you but niggas 'll leave you breathless

shit I'm a winner

More like a sinner

Try'na make it to dinner

Then live after breakfast

Ya knowTrae

S.P.

How the fuck are we suppose to smile

Man

Answer me that

Maybe I'll fuckin' smile

Why'knowNothin' to smile about

These lil' niggas is wildin' out

Do somethin' to 'em they dialin' out

Everybody lookin' at you like you foulin' out

Every hood everywhere that's what it's now about

The shootas is half your age

Give you half the gage

Daily news half the page

Known as a thug now he ain't just fly

Couple months in the group home in D-F-Y

Truthfully what could have been pended but never did

And he slid

As a youthful offender 'cause he's a kid

Problem is

The person he shot was connected

He comin' home thinkin' he's sweet and don't expect it

Big but he's still young

To him it's still fun

360 waves new gear blue steel gun

They say you ain't promised tomorrow

They got the drop and hit him right in his head with a hollow

Songwriters

FRISCHMANN, JUSTINE ELINOR/MATTHEWS, DONNA LORRAINEPublished by

Lyrics © EMI Music Publishing, Sony/ATV Music Publishing LLC, Warner/Chappell Music, Inc., Kobalt Music Publishing Ltd., Universal Music Publishing Group, BOURNE CO. Song Discussions is protected by U.S. Patent 9401941. Other patents pending.

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