(d.a. got that dope)
Dear John, dear y’all
I’m writin’ you this letter ’cause you ain’t answer when I called
Trill Bill live from the battlefield
Y’all take care of a nigga children in the event I fall
Miranda, I know you wish I’d do better
And sometimes I know it seems I ain’t too clever
And from right here, it’s a long way until forever
King, please forgive for my absence
Missed a lot of time through me, found out you mine, regardless
How shit go down, I’m your motherfuckin’ daddy
Queen, you my motherfuckin’ queen
‘Bout you I’m goin’ to the bean, I knew before you were even three
Your daddy’s gon’ start havin’ to pick out caskets
And send my love to my big brother Masnik
Tell him I’m sorry for dissin’ him ’cause he didn’t take that charge
But he knew that was his motherfuckin’ ratchet
Viking, I pray you never have to kill a fella
My little god brother Ivan lookin’ like he might want to be a stepper
I done been on both sides of that barrel
These crackers givin’ out more time than you can measure
They ain’t show you the grimy shit, just the glamour
But they ain’t told you they cryin’ and ain’t no pleasure
Just hard times, niggas post you, won’t send a letter
Pickin’ up viles like my vulture got a vendetta
Why I always gotta coach you to keep it thorough?
They don’t know what I go through, that might be better
But niggas close to you tellin’ folks your business ‘fore you even tell ’em
You spendin’, they count your cheddar, they sittin’ around playin’ the Devil
I cried real tears in this Givenchy sweater
I wonder will Bill ever get it together?
I’m on these pills, still actin’ like I’m sober
Hopin’ that they don’t kill Bill while I’m gettin’ my life in order
I don’t wanna die in my twenties, got a little longer
While I’m wonderin’ where my life and children be gettin’ older
I don’t know, but this life a nigga been livin’
Might send a nigga to prison, I probably got twenty killings
Dear God, where do I even start? I’ve been tearin’ families apart since you took my grandpa
Shit outta hand, but look and these damn cards
Look at my hands, there’s a lot damn scars
All the real niggas in the ground or in the yard
Fuck nigga scared, only way they win, you got a fed charge
Lookin’ at Prince though the sonogram, I know that’s my little boy
Thinkin’ hard, headin’ nowhere far, pray I see my newborn