[Intro: Mike Epps]
|
Married men act totally different when they're by themselves, don't they?
|
You see them with their wife, like
|
"What's up Tony? Hey man, how's everything going brother?"
|
"Just taking it easy, hanging out with the lady"
|
"Alright, God bless you, take it easy now"
|
You be like that nigga ain't like that
|
You see him by himself, "What's up Tony?"
|
"Hey, where's the bitches at, nigga?"
|
|
[Verse 1]
|
Yeah, give me my space
|
Lord ain't enough time to chase all these dreams
|
I mean I got no time to wait
|
Love my girl but I told her straight up "don't wait up"
|
Stumble home late, I'm drunk, we fucked then made up
|
Used to living free as a bird, now I'm laid up
|
Feeling like a nigga got handcuffs on
|
How the fuck did my life become a damn love song?
|
She ride for a nigga and she stand up for him
|
But a nigga wanna be a nigga, be a nigga
|
Ride through the streets with freaks and real niggas
|
She never understand what it's like to be a man
|
Knowing when you look inside yourself you see a nigga
|
And you don't wanna let her down but you too young for the settle down
|
And maybe you can thug it out, learn what is love about
|
When you can't live with her and you can't live without
|
Oh shit, goddamn, I think the devil got his hands on me
|
Stripper saying: "Baby, won't you throw these bands on me?"
|
And I came to spend, she pop a molly let the motherfucking games begin
|
I'm running...
|
|
[Hook]
|
Run away, run away, run away, run away
|
I'm holding on desperately
|
Run away, run away, run away, run away
|
I'm holding on
|
|
[Verse 2]
|
When it's all said and done everybody dies
|
In this life ain't no happy endings
|
Only pure beginnings followed by years of sinning and fake repentance
|
The preacher says we were made in image of Lord
|
To which I replied: "Are you sure?
|
Even the murderer? Even the whore?
|
Even the nigga running through bitches on tour?"
|
With a good girl at home folding clothes and shit
|
She losing faith in him and he knows and shit
|
Like what the fuck is a break, don't know how much I can take no more
|
I give you all I got till it ain't no more
|
No more tears it's been ten long years, damn near
|
I don't know if I can wait no more, and who can blame her
|
You complaining 'bout every time you out, you come back she pout
|
Sleeping back to back, this is wack
|
We 'bout to go platinum in a minute, crib acting out
|
My childhood fantasies of wife and home
|
But it's a whole lot of actresses I'd like to bone
|
And despite the rumors you hold out
|
On account of the guilt that she has got to spend her nights alone
|
And she ride or die like Eve and 'em
|
Make home cooked meals every evening
|
And even then, your lowest days when you no longer Superman
|
At least you know you got Lois Lane
|
But you...
|
|
[Hook]
|
Run away, run away, run away, run away
|
I'm holding on desperately
|
Run away, run away, run away, run away
|
I'm holding on
|
|
[Verse 3]
|
Yeah, unbelievable seen evil that not even Knievel know
|
At age 3 I knew this world was three below
|
Listen, even know my ego low achieved the unachievable
|
Imagine if my confidence was halfway decent, yo
|
This just in, fucked more bitches than Bieber though
|
Still I keep it low, got my niggas on the need to know
|
Basis, my manager back in the days was racist
|
I was a young boy, passing skate and tucking laces
|
Old perverted white man who told me:
|
"Jermaine, it's all pink on the inside. Fuck what color their face is."
|
Wise words from an indecent man
|
Made me reflect on the times when we was three fifths of them
|
And change empower less, brave souls reduce the cowardice
|
Slaving in the baking sun for hours
|
Just to see the master creep into the shack where your lady at
|
Nine months later got a baby that's not quite what you excepted
|
But you refuse to neglect it cause you know your wifey love you
|
Does you refuse to accept it?
|
That's that type shit that tell why my granny light skin
|
Rich white man rule the nation still, only difference is we all slaves now
|
The chains still concealed in our thoughts
|
If I follow my heart to save myself
|
Could I run away from 50 mill like Dave Chapp |