Life Story
[Verse 1: Focus the Truth]
Trying to appeal to the ignorant with songs for the pure
Still chasing girls drawers, open doors, late calls
Text messages; figure if I blow it's more effortless
Raised by two immigrants, taught I should be a gentleman
Moved from Nigeria to America
Guess by definition they’re true African Americans
Road trips to Maryland with Ayo the Don
Make sure you stash all the medicine
We know all the laws of the land but we young and negligent
And spitting over songs like there ain't no one we ain't better than
I’ll show the world if the money right
Made it sound like a muffler I put cans on my old bikes
Zoning out in the basement I was writing the whole night
Spit my 16’s to hustler who were trapping and sold white
It’s like a dream when I think of it now
Those were the days still writing it down
Reminisce spit my verse then I see how it sounds; that’s soul music

[Chorus: Zena Kitt]
Life keeps on moving
Life keeps holding
And I know the story well
Eyes wide open
My heart is bleeding
And I know the story well
You see were not the same
[Verse 2: Focus the Truth]
So I lost love but had this attraction to being street
My fitted turned back my pants would drag down under my feet
My homie used to keep a 380 stashed under the seat
But that’s some other shit
Because of the statute won't state his government
Talking to girls at the party hope that they fall in love with him
People shoot up the party I guess its time that I run again
Track star in the back block fences were hurdles
No guns then run far niggas get murdered
Hit the block and talk about it twisting blunts of purple
Blast my music on the strip we don’t listen to shit commercial
Hood radio the stuff I be spitting way more relatable
Bright colors on summer days I’m looking flavorful
Arguments and freestyles at night woke up the neighbors too
Just my ghetto point of view my life should be on pay per view
Happy 'cause the struggles we overcame and I made it through
So in these songs all I give to you.. uh