I Don't Know ft. Aspk & Fleetwood Lyrics

I guess I'm I guess I'm I guess I'm I guess I'm I guess I'm I guess I'm I guess I'm I guess I'm I

I guess I'm I

Everything I spit, it be like money, man

Make it so much, you should call me money man

And why everybody wanna profit off me

What the f**k y'all thought the recipe was free

Them days is over with

I need some microphone if you want me to spit

Blood on gorilla, Skrilla

Control destinies around me

How the f**k you think I got the name Recipe

Then ran a few more streets with them JT's

And them Messi's

But I'm underrated, traveled

A rocky road, the greatest story not told

I got your attention, so let's watch it unfold

I guess I f**kin' fuse an indie or a major

Got a new album all day, get you some of this recipe flavor

Off top, 15 beat a beat

Knocked off half if you bring the new TC

I guess I'm I guess I'm I guess I'm I guess I'm I

My mind blank, I don't know what to think

Gas in my tanks, f**kin' loud with a blunt full of dink

Thoughts come and go like b*****s and bros

Friends and foes, you never know who they are

Until they steppin' on toes, grippin' that rope

You lose trust, you lose hope

But I guess that's the way it goes sometimes, who knows

These days just ain't the same

Through time, the money, the f**k

From dark to sunny, the highs, the lows

A lost and changed, it's strange how the future arranged

Keep up the pace, stay in your lane

Maintain the struggle, the pain embedded in your brain

Everything turned out to be the same

What changed? Humanity's insane

You can't believe most of them is tame

No equal exchange, the people, the names

The vision through the people, the dreams

But you thought this was a game

Gangsta rapper raised me in a home of independents

That's four n****s had a budget, and they didn't know how to spend them

Four cases was pending, and we prayed the violence ceased

That's that West Coast country boy from them Bay Area streets

That's my hitman, Sleegram, and Killer Keese

Kool Nut, Johnny Cash, Pac, y'all please rest in peace

The industry owe us, let me get that back pay

So I can start a foundation for Mr. C. and Mack Drake

The best form of a compliment, it come in imitation

Now everybody know they sold, our style crossed the nation

We laced up by them pimps, players, and them hustlers

Feel on stem, rubber ham, Mac Miller's the headbusters

We never did love her, taught the spotter undercover

The part we cut from is where bosses come from

We just lost another one just before the sun dropped

They ain't coming no way, don't nobody call no cops

The place called the bay, I pray the youngins get old

Pop taught me the code, way back on Harbor Road

Turn back the hands of time, and I was sure of that

Man, they keep on asking me, can the bay come back

Can the bay come back

Just don't move, just don't move