Joyner Lucas, The Game and Lyla - On This Way

And I think I been countin' my hardest days
Lord, won't you save me? Oh-oh
You know what I been prayin' for
And I never thought I'd see this day, yeah
I gotta make it change
And I think I been countin' my hardest days

Uh, writin' plans to make a new report (yeah)
Grind hard to turn my basement into a jewelry store
If you don't do it for your kids then who you do it for?
I'm tryin' read and learn some shit I never knew before
Focus on investments (yeah)
Build me up some new resorts
We can manifest it (word)
You'd rather hit the Louis store
Wastin' all you blessin's
Carin' 'bout the ones who doubt you
Just to impress some hoes
Who never gave a fuck about you
Just what I discovered
Never believed in family
That word is really a cover
Just a title to have the advantage
To keep you under (right)
I got niggas I consider brothers
More than my brothers
Watchin' you show your colours
We livin' in a world where prison walls is deprivation (yeah)
Livin' in a world where snitchin' calls for celebration (yeah)
Livin' in a world were niggas crawl in segregation
Rainy nights and desperation
Pray we fight the legislation
Protest until we flatline, paralyze (uh-huh)
They throwin' stones at my black lives matter signs (uh-huh)
Made a change but we still not satisfied
I can't smile half the time, I'm still (still)
I'm still waitin', sittin', plottin' on the couch (word)
'Cause I know that I ain't safe when all these cops is on the prowl (yeah)
Tryna a think about other ways but we ain't got no other route
I'm startin' to understand that shit that Pac was talkin' 'bout, word

And I think I been countin' my hardest days
Lord, won't you save me? Oh-oh
You know what I been prayin' for (uh, uh uh, uh)
And I never thought I'd see this day, yeah (uh, uh uh, uh)
I gotta make it change
And I think I been countin' my hardest days

Lord, won't you save me? Oh-oh
You know what I been prayin' for
And I never thought I'd see this day, yeah
I gotta make it change
And I think I been countin' my

Look, time is money and the clock tickin'
I teach my son love and respect, that's a God-given (word)
My sperm donor never been shit, just a flop
Listen, if it wasn't for my step pops
I probably turned out different (facts)
Probably be in a cell doin' a life sentence (facts)
Probably have twenty baby mommas and nine bitches (facts)
Probably grow up misguided, twisted inside the system
Dropped out and failed 'cause listen to my admission (yeah)
Sick of gettin' in fights with niggas less educated
Sick of gettin invites from niggas who never made it (oh-oh)
Sick of bein' polite to people with lesser patience
Oftentimes, I wonder where I would be if I never made it
The hatin' always comes from niggas
That wished they had your blessin's or the clout (true)
And bad vibes forever but I'm destined on this route (yeah)
I'm startin' to understand
That shit that X was talkin' bout (word)

(And I think I been countin' my)

(Worst thin' comes to worst)
(I fuckin' die a tragic death or some shit)
(And I'm not able to see out my dreams)
(I at least wanna know)
(That the kids, perceived my message)
(And were able to make somethin' of themselves)
(And able to take my message)
(And use it and turn it into somethin' positive)
(And to, to at least have a good life)

If it ain't black on
I'm probably gon' use it to chop crack on
Hard white for all them hard nights
I had my back on roach-infested carpet
Tiptoe in my mother's room see a dresser
And felt no pressure when takin' a twenty off it
Compton like a closed coffin
We walk in the school coughin'
Often high off the gunsmoke
Boston hat at the front door
Cookin' class, I'm J-Hov
Rock it up on they stove
Me and my teacher goin' back and forth like Noname and J Cole
You said I would never be what?
I wouldn't amount to what?
Now you in this Trader Joes, same line, sayin', "What's Up?"
Talkin' about how you like my songs
Not knowin' it was me
Security had me in a headlock
And I told you I couldn't breathe
Now it's Black Lives Matter and white letters on your shirt
Now, how many black lives did you help or did you hurt?
Did you handicap, block, push to excel or did you hinder?
Since hindsight is twenty-twenty I guess you don't remember
Now you with your mixed child, havin' all these mixed feelin's
But do your black husband know you tried to burn down our village?
But nevermind, front of line, that's for ya'll to figure out
Just know that boy who wasn't shit, bailed all his niggas out
And this my black queen, I kiss her on her black lips
And she rock off white 'cause she supports black shit
And I'm blacker than a Steeler helmet or a Spike Lee flick
Black like the pick stuck in the afro of Kaepernick

Written by:
Gary Maurice Lucas Jr., Jayceon Terrell Taylor, Iyla Iyla

Publisher:
Lyrics © Sony/ATV Music Publishing LLC, Reservoir Media Management, Inc.

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