Getcha life right (Ft. Skatterman & Snug Brim)

[Chorus:]

I'm just tryna get my life right

Get it to go my way (go my way)

If ya ain't got pay

I'm just tryna get my life right

Top of the hill with my family

Cop a couple mil can't be mad at me

I'm just tryna get my life right

Don't wanna beef with ya

Get ya money let me eat with ya

I'm just tryna get my life right

Cause I gotta be the boss

Gotta get it no matter what the cost

Getcha life right

[Verse 1: Krizz Kaliko]

I ain't tryna be Bill Gates, I'm tryna be the nigga Bill Gates hates, make no mistake 'bout it

I'm tryna make it where my son see anything he want on the Internet and PayPal it

I stay valid, there ain't nothin' you can say 'bout it

If ya hustle gimme enough greens to make salad

I gotta get my money and my life right

I push ya bucket as long as my momma and my wife right

Don't really want people to see me in the wrong light

And stop me from feedin' my son it's on nigga, on sight

Pass around that collection plate

The selection got me feelin' nigga rich but I'm Section 8

Momma taught me how to behave

But aunt showed me how to fuck weed in a microwave

So if you know me know I love you from a distance

My absence is all about business

[Chorus]

[Verse 2: Skatterman]

Some people callin' my story an inspiration

Relatin' to the time I get if I skip this probation

Patiently waitin' for me to slip so they can can me

Off in a cell when I was just tryna feed my family

But I'm addicted to these streets and blocks

And this concrete is crucial, either ya eat or ya not

Plan on reachin' the top, gotta be willin' to poke your shirt out

Stick with the truth if you's a griddin' pass the work out

How can I judge a man that life just left me

I'm blessed, knock on some wood, slip through the ice like Gretzky

Every move I hope the vice don't catch me, I gotta try

I used to pick shoes baby momma for an alibi

Nigga had to switch it up, rap game pickin' up, It's critical,

tryna walk that line of cash residuals

I'm tryna make it to where my prophece is invisible

And if I fail, just call me pitiful

[Chorus]

[Verse 3: Snug Brim]

I'm just tryna get my life right, the kids and the wife right

But still I'll bust a mothafuckin' head if the price right

Right or wrong, homie I don't give a fuck

As long as my son can get some [? ] for his Tonka truck

I'm bein' in it stuck in the game, dodgin' the ducky (?) cops

Been griddin', dumpin 'em things when will they fuckin' stop (fuckin' stop)

Paranoid, thinkin' who gon' blow the whistle on me

Change my daughter's diaper in the dope house with a pistol on me

I sold coke, sold crack, sold this, sold that

Pray to the Lord, but I won't never get my soul back

I used to get the powder, when I touched it it would turn to bricks

But lately everything my finger's touchin' seems to turn to shit

I go to church on Sunday cause I wanna be a good nigga

But I'm a product of my hood nigga

Plus I'm sick of being Strange Music's black sheeba

But I don't wanna go back to them back streets

[Chorus]