Pressure Lyrics

The story of a baller who ain't have many friends

And the way this song begins is the way that it ends

Pressure

I keep two dollars in my pocket, reminding me of my past

There was times I had to stretch, hoping those two dollars last

Hard times you're gonna catch, now sit down for this class

This the school of hard knocks, communicating through glass

Applying pressure in the inner city, struggling still

Where everyone is struggling like you, so that struggle is real

This where your heroes is banging sets or they some players that deal

Dropped 30 at park but left the court with his steel

That basketball was on a yo-yo, man, that baller had skill

He lost his scholarship and came home, started packaging pills

Moved up from double ups, he drive a Chevy the guts

Decorated something plush the dope game is a rush

This when your stomach is on empty and your ribs they touch

You started out just wanting Jordans, so you ain't hustle too much

You found out in just a week, you can decorate your feet

So you moved up and bought a Chevy, and filled the trunk up with beat

Now you dun got your feet wet, and now the word on the street

You dropped out of college, chasing dreams of birds in the street

Your family is disappointed, but you ain't paying no mind

You seeing dollar signs, so bump em, you gon' stay on the grind

This is the story of a baller who ain't have many friends

And the way this song begins is the way that it ends

I keep two dollars in my pocket, reminding me of my past

There was times I had to stretch, hoping those two dollars last

This is the story of a baller who ain't have many friends

And the way this song begins is the way that it ends

I keep two dollars in my pocket, reminding me of my past

There was times I had to stretch, hoping those two dollars last

Tell the lil shorties its something bigger than ghetto stories

That fast lane is deadly traffic to your ghetto glory

Licking that metal, surely jumping fences, cutting corners, a crook to the tomb

Somebody gon' put you on your back, and as you look to the moon

You'll see the flashbacks of those alley-oops, those basketball days

You'll see the crowd all amazed from your basketball plays

You'll see your family, those that love you, not that scale, that weighs

You'll see the ones you disappointed because your loyalty stayed

Nigga, you died over a dollar, and every day that's made

But money doesn't love a soul, so your ass got played

You turned away from integrity to be a celebrity

Knowing that record scratches, and we all know the melody

Common thing in this neighborhood, your neighborhood too

Ghetto to ghetto, we lost structure in our neighborhood's true

The loyalty turned to envy once the government sponsored

Federal drug dealing, they some government monsters

This is the story of a baller who ain't have many friends

And the way this song begins is the way that it ends

I keep two dollars in my pocket, reminding me of my past

There was times I had to stretch, hoping those two dollars last

This is the story of a baller who ain't have many friends

And the way this song begins is the way that it ends

I keep two dollars in my pocket, reminding me of my past

There was times I had to stretch, hoping those two dollars last