Poor thing, young pup's playin' war games
He wanted love, but he only made more pain
Poor thing, young pup's playin' war games
He wanted love, but he only made more pain

Picture my soul climbin' out of infinite hole
Where niggas die over pride and live for the dough
If I survive, then I'll strive to hit with the flow
Hopin' these waves will pave, but the ripples is slow
And I'm conflicted with no digits to show
But fantasies of frivolous hoes grippin' this pole
The temperature's low
But you know that ain't stoppin' lil' nigga from slidin'
Like the tires on the whip in the snow
This is for sure, I'm tip-toein' around the abyss with sticks blowin'
Piss poor with intentions to glimpse
The wrist glowin', face tints from Rick Owen
Fist clenched when niggas diss, but since knowin'
Lives expire when niggas pride gets higher than the vocal range inside
But rise vocal chain, uh
My road to fame is rife with spikes and broken lanes
And tolls I can't afford, but I won't complain
I know the more I gotta struggle is the more I gain
Post-traumatic stress on an immature brain
Leaves another corpse, young pup playin' war games
Now he's handcuffed, old lady sayin', "Poor thing"

Poor thing, young pup's playin' war games (ayo)
He wanted love, but he only made more pain
Poor thing, young pup's playin' war games
He wanted love, but he only made more pain

(You wanna talk shit? You wanna run your mouth?)
(You want some gangsta's front yo' motherfuckin' house?)
(We'll set this bitch off, yeah, set this bitch off)
(We'll set this bitch off, set this bitch off, yeah)
(You wanna-)

Here go a song to get some shit off of my sternum
This nigga back home been talkin' slick, and I done heard him
You get your name goin', niggas like that gon' throw they dirt on
You make you some coins, niggas gon' act like you ain't earn 'em
He talk like he live, but I remember him from high school
Man, deep down inside, know he a bitch, I wanna hurt him
I know that's my pride, I carry it just like a burden
When egos is flarin', beware that's when they close the curtain (put your hands up)
It's when they close the curtain (put your motherfu-)
It's when they close the curtain
(Oh, you gon' pull out a gun, nigga? Yo, chill, chill, chill-chill-chill-chill)
It's when they close the curtain (you gon' pull out a gun, nigga?)
(Yo, chill, chill, chill, chill)
(You gon' shoot me?)
It's when they, uh (oh, oh, oh)

Don't pull out no pistol, run me my fade
Come get your issue, no one gets sprayed
Win or you lose, live to fight another day
And if I take an L, I won't feel no way

Plenty nights a nigga didn't eat, punk bitch
Rent owed, damn near was on the street, punk bitch
Weren't no Western Unions, so you were not needed, punk bitch
All of a sudden, I'm buzzin', oh, now it's beef, punk bitch
Gon' and pop off, get fucked 'bout your mystique, punk bitch
I knew you way before you was actin' street, punk bitch
Started rollin' with niggas that's packin' heat, punk bitch
You more like me than them niggas, you still a geek, punk bitch
You can't hide it with tattoos on your physique, punk bitch
And that lingo you added, that how you speak, punk bitch?
And you grew up with both your parents to teach, punk bitch
So how the fuck all of the sudden, you turnin' G? Punk bitch
You a slave to the peer pressure, you're weak, punk bitch
You ain't claimin' no real section, your street wasn't lit
Man, your shit look like mine, with hella tree trunks, bitch
Move to Forest Hill Drive, and it was peace for a bit
'Til domestic turned violent, then a key just switched
In the back of my mind, I gotta be somethin', bitch
That's when I started rhymin' and makin' beats, sumbitch
Way before you was lyin' 'bout touchin' keys, sumbitch
Heard you say I ain't real, that's your belief, huh? Bitch
Well, look, I'm back in the 'Ville, so we can see, punk bitch
Gon' and shoot me the fair one when we meet, punk bitch
And don't be bringin' no hammers, nah, don't cheat, punk bitch (ayo)
Nah, don't cheat, punk bitch
Don't try to lean on that shit, nigga, I want my fuckin' head up
('Cause I've been through worser things)
Punk bitch (real)
Punk bitch, huh

Poor thing, young pup's playin' war games
He wanted love, but he only made more pain
Poor thing, young pup's playin' war games
He wanted love, but he only made more pain

Don't pull out no pistol, run me my fade
Come get your issue, no one gets sprayed
Win or you lose, get to fight another day
And if I take an L, I won't feel no way

'Cause I've been through worser things

Hey, what's up? Hey, what's up
Hey, what's up?
Yo, what's good?
Hey, hey, what's up? What's up, how you been?
Nah, fuck

Your call has been forwarded to voicemail
The person you're trying to reach-
Fuck Writer/s: Bunny Sigler, Damon Coleman, Jeremy Allen, Jermaine Cole, Kelvin Wooten, M. Roach, Michael Holmes, Phillip Hurtt, Steve Bilodeau, Torence Hatch, Tyler Williams
Publisher: Universal Music Publishing Group
Lyrics licensed and provided by LyricFind