Do What You Gotta Do.

You know the saying, you gotta do what you gotta do
But what you gotta do depends on who you’re talking to
So clear the runway because a real one is walking through
And if you don’t want me to trip then provide me working shoes
They ask me, what do I have to lose? What do I have to prove?
I tell them I’m a man with an ego and you know it’s easy to bruise
I ain’t dealing with these little crews, I’m thinking about a coup
Can’t be materialistic, can’t just be thinking about the coupe
Mentally, spiritually, physically, I’m exhausted
But they don’t care about your feelings unless you’re balling
Some people will just refuse to pick up the phone when you’re calling
Asking these niggas for progress but they’re stalling
They think this is a dictatorship like joseph stalin
I become allergic to your bullshit like it’s pollen
See I’m under construction but I pretend like it’s nothing
I call it protecting my pride, some people just call it fronting
See I’m on the phone, contemplating if I’m gonna vent or not
I knew I was the man back before 50 created Candy Shop
Dealing with a shawty that’s getting thicker than the plot
Momma taught me not to trust white men, that includes the cops
People sleeping on me? I hope that you land in cots
Nervous for the future, I swear my whole stomach tied up in knots
Keep my guarded like the gold in Fort Knox
They say I’m a player like Derek Jeter, no shortstop
People think that they know my life when they know the snippets
I’m about to kill the game and I’m gonna let you know who did it
I been staying low so my potential? You might forget it
You can’t beat me because I’m my own toughest critic
So sometimes, I gotta do what I gotta do
Everybody talking bills but the ones I got are due
I don’t need a blue dog to go ahead and find a clue
I don’t need a lie detector to go ahead and find the truth
Trying to figure out who exactly can I trust?
We’re afraid of falling in love but we have no issue with the lust
People ain’t scratching the surface, we’re barely getting the crust
People placing their bets on me and I pray that I’m not a bust
I be really stressed out, I might just need someone to rub my back
Need someone to calm my heart, need someone to counter attack
All these claims that can rain down on my lonely head
Certain people wishing me well but secretly wish me dead
That’s harsh words, people saying “He has his nerve”
But I came from the streets, I ain’t ready to get kicked to the curb.

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This entry was posted in creatvity, honesty, poems, self-help and tagged , , , , , , . Bookmark the permalink.

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