My Life lyrics

[Intro: Meek Mill]

The world is yours and everything in it

You gonna go get it?

[Verse 1: Meek Mill]

Mama couldn't save me, daddy dead so he couldn't raise me

I'm still tripping off them hoes that played me

Same bitches fronting on me when I had my baby

It's crazy, and niggas say they made me

Taking credit from my mama, shit amaze me

How niggas talking down when I'm not around

But every time I'm in the building, shhh, not a sound

I line my haters up and clap them down

That choppa have nigga dancing like he Bobby Brown

I'm well-respected in my city, even out of town

And don't ever tuck my chain

Nigga, how that sound? How that look?

We don't live by the book, we just live by the code

A lot of niggas got exposed when feds came through

They was dropping names too

Niggas say I changed up but I'm with the same crew

I was always told to get the money and remain you

Never let these pussy niggas tell you what you can't do

Every time they said that I left, that was when I came through

Range new, .38 special when the flame blue

Just in case I gotta flame you

What a feeling when them people tryna frame you

Lock you in a cell when detain you

Rather die before I go out working like I'm Django

I'm gone...

[Chorus: French Montana]

Niggas want me dead, everyday that I wake up

Fuck you talking ‘bout, you ain’t talking paper

And here's another one, here's another one

Streets watching

A new bitch, a new car

Her ass soft, I go hard

And here's another one, here's another one

Streets watching

[Verse 2: Meek Mill]

If I fuck her, I'm brainless

She fuck me, she might get famous

She might get a chance to ride jet and drive Ranges

Money'll have your closest friends turning into strangers

That's dangerous, niggas shoot and they'll aim at us

Shooting in the sky, you tryna hit the angels up

Niggas tripping like y'all dipping off angel dust

And all these Cubans 'round my neck getting tangled up

I only fuck with bad bitches that be trained to fuck

Five niggas, ten bitches run a train on us

Looking at these rap niggas they all lame as fuck

Mini skirts, skinny jeans with the strangest cuts

I stick to the script, switch like stick on the shift

Early mornings in the kitchen like I'm whippin' the grits

Nigga, I could score your bitch with a flick of the wrist

Swear that Audemar flashlight like I'm flicking a pic

[Chorus: French Montana]

Niggas want me dead, everyday that I wake up

Fuck you talking ‘bout, you ain’t talking paper

And here's another one, here's another one

Streets watching

A new bitch, a new car

Her ass soft, I go hard

And here's another one, here's another one

Streets watching