REAL UGLY (Interlude) ft. Jocko Slim Lyrics

My room's trashed, my mirror's broke, my hands bloody

My anger's building, my attitude is real ugly

I get tired of everyday things

I get tired of my passion not being real and just another dream

Tired of my best friend, always tryna call up

Complaining bout her boyfriend, when you gone give them drawers up

Tired of people tryna talk to me about college

Cause they too stupid to see that it was just a plan B

How bout we talk about plans that could make us some bread

Or we could debate our top five rappers instead

How bout we talk about this nigga's vision

I wish this hoe would let me talk and just sit back and listen

We always going at it

My perspective was probably different since age ten

When I was six, I survived my ceiling got caved in

Instead of chasing dreams my mind was a little twisted

Cause I was told being a rapper wasn't realistic

Somebody bound to make it, might as well be me

I'm treating rap like teen moms I might forget the plan B

They did me greasy but back then I couldn't detect it

Cause I was being nice but I wasn't being respected

My hands dirty, your face broken, my shoes bloody

Keep my name out your mouth or it might get Will-ugly, huh

Anti and Jocko back at it it's tragic

The only plan B I'm thinking of is for this chick I'm smashing

I got heartbroken so I went out and got drip

Just to fill that void so I don't feel like I'm not shit

Now I feel like Popeye with the spinach I'm livid

I'm built different, yo Jocko tell me when will they listen

See they don't see I'm paving way, I'm making influence

Niggas always wanna hate because they couldn't do it

See I'm surprised I graduated a student

Because I used to sit and think of ways to be truant, ya see

I was too weak to be an athlete, or to join the Navy

Wasn't smart enough to get in classes that was AP

Said I wanna be a rapper, Mom thought I was crazy

Guess what this worthless talent's what bought me an AP

This hobby's putting food on the table for my babies

Just wait a couple more years later you'll thank me

See this ain't out of luck, this how God made me

And my supply is still selling like crack in the 80s, nigga