Not true, if he died it would be the same difference as whats happening with every rapper who dies, from DMX to Lil' shmoopy butt..
RIP Earl DMX Simmons
- Thread starter Darrkman
- Start date
Not true, if he died it would be the same difference as whats happening with every rapper who dies, from DMX to Lil' shmoopy butt..
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his god daughter still havent posted anything...she`s taking it real hard ...
If Jay Z & B have done this then this is a nice thing to do. This is what your wealth is meant for, to be able to help and secure other people around you in less fortunate situations.
Twitter Spreads Rumour That Jay Z and Beyoncé Bought DMX’s Masters For $10 Million For His Sons and Daughters
"Yesterday, DMX passed away after being on life support for a week in a White Plains, NY hospital after suffering cardiac arrest. Fans worldwide have been paying homage to the hip-hop legend and are streaming his music heavily.
A lot of misinformation has been spreading regarding X over the last week and now, there is sadly more. On social media on Saturday, rumors have circulated that Jay Z and Beyoncé have bought DMX’s masters for $10 million in order to help his children.
As of now, there is zero confirmation of this and neither Jay or Bey have spoken on this. There was also a similar incident in 2019 where a rumor spread that Jay set up a $15 million trust fund for Nipsey Hussle’s children. That turned out to not be true."
Twitter Spreads Rumor That Jay Z and Beyoncé Bought DMX’s Masters For $10 Million For His Sons and Daughters (hip-hopvibe.com)
Twitter Spreads Rumour That Jay Z and Beyoncé Bought DMX’s Masters For $10 Million For His Sons and Daughters
"Yesterday, DMX passed away after being on life support for a week in a White Plains, NY hospital after suffering cardiac arrest. Fans worldwide have been paying homage to the hip-hop legend and are streaming his music heavily.
A lot of misinformation has been spreading regarding X over the last week and now, there is sadly more. On social media on Saturday, rumors have circulated that Jay Z and Beyoncé have bought DMX’s masters for $10 million in order to help his children.
As of now, there is zero confirmation of this and neither Jay or Bey have spoken on this. There was also a similar incident in 2019 where a rumor spread that Jay set up a $15 million trust fund for Nipsey Hussle’s children. That turned out to not be true."
Twitter Spreads Rumor That Jay Z and Beyoncé Bought DMX’s Masters For $10 Million For His Sons and Daughters (hip-hopvibe.com)
It's bullshit.
For one X's master's are worth more than that I'm sure especially since he just passed.
Second he's only been dead a couple of days there's no way they could of have closed that deal in such a short amount of time.
every time a well known rapper dies, the internet starts some stupid rumor about them involving Jay. Did the same thing with NIpsey.
His name was Dark Man X, but he was the one who prayed for LIGHT to be cast on a dark world instead of himself. RIP EARL DMX SIMMONS
DMX Leaves a Legacy of Passion, Unparalleled Success, and Pain
The gruff-voiced MC died Friday, nearly a week after suffering multiple heart attacks resulting from an apparent drug overdose
www.theringer.com
DMX Tribute Featuring Jinx and Andrew Barber
Charles, Andrew, and Jinx offer their favorite memories, songs, and moments from the life of the resilient legend
www.theringer.com
The Thing About DMX
Justin and Micah discuss the life DMX led while pursuing rap and touch on their own experience with his music in the late 1990s through the 2000s
www.theringer.com
This says it was a tribute in downtown Orlando not his body leaving the hospital.
#DMX on Instagram | Hashtags
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DMX's Fiancee Gets 'Dog Love' Tattoo to Commemorate His Death
DMX's 'Dog Love' for Desiree lives on in some fresh ink.
www.tmz.com
DMX's Family Warns of Scammers Raising Money for His Funeral
No, DMX's family doesn't need your money to cover his funeral costs.
www.tmz.com
Swizz Beatz Delivers Moving Eulogy About DMX the Humanitarian
Swizz Beatz eulogized his old friend and music partner, DMX ... saying he lived to help others and made their pain his.
www.tmz.com
DMX to Be Honored in Hometown, Yonkers Mayor Suggests Raceway for Memorial
DMX will be honored by his hometown of Yonkers, New York.
www.tmz.com
@4:10
Sadly we lost Royalty
RIP to the DOG
DMX Took Us All to the Basement of Our Emotions
Eddie Huang remembers DMX’s irresistible cameo on Fresh Off the Boat, and the man who unexpectedly nurtured a generation.
www.vulture.com
DMX's Fiancee Gets 'Dog Love' Tattoo to Commemorate His Death
DMX's 'Dog Love' for Desiree lives on in some fresh ink.
www.tmz.com
Rest in eternal peace X...
A Man Named Earl
By Craig Jenkins
Perhaps it is the price of playing the unflappable, unkillable gangster that we thought DMX could handle more than anyone should. Photo: Jonathan Mannion
DMX seemed almost invincible. On record, onstage, and in film, he displayed an almost superhuman intensity. His songs served elaborate, believable threats: “I keep my slugs hollow, keep families with sorrow / Keep motherfuckers like you not seein’ tomorrow.” During his tenure as a legitimate action and gangster movie star, he depicted resourceful anti-heroes beating back seemingly insurmountable odds. Tommy from Belly runs afoul of religious leaders and drug dealers in two different countries and makes it out alive; Cradle 2 the Grave’s bank robber Anthony Fait cracks safes and takes down an international crime syndicate all to save his daughter. DMX struggled, but he persevered. He stumbled, but he got back up. In reality, though, he dealt with more and worse adversity than any single person should have to bear. What we saw was a man coping, a man hurting and transforming pain into usable strength. If he seemed endlessly energetic, consider the price of the fuel. As we remember the late Yonkers legend — who passed away Friday, April 9, at the age of 50 due to complications from a heart attack brought on by an apparent overdose — it’s just as important to grasp the far-reaching systemic failures that played into the life that he led, to save others.
One Great Story
The one story you shouldn’t miss, selected by New York editors
The early chapters of 2003’s E.A.R.L.: The Autobiography of DMX recount a tale familiar to anyone who grew up in places where the nation’s bureaucratic authority seems to fail, around people whose needs always seem to come last, where regime change feels cosmetic because no president, senator, mayor, or governor raises your bottom line. In public housing, you see the best and the worst of people. There’s love, camaraderie, and music in rec-room birthday parties, in concrete cookouts, in block parties on the weekend. Lounge on stoops and listen through walls, and you might hear and see too much. You might know the unmistakable glint of sunlight bouncing off of a steel handgun produced in broad daylight in a place where you’d least expect it. You might come to meet the mild-mannered child whose parents only seemed to speak in open hands and electrical cords, the “bad” child who left “to see family” for months at a time and came back rougher every summer, the smart one underserved and under-engaged by public school, the beloved neighborhood figure growing wiry and thin and drawing rumors of clandestine habits. DMX was one of us, all of us, really. He commanded respect as much for the brilliance of his craft as for navigating street life adeptly enough to get out unscathed, a folk hero as much as a rapper. He hustled his way out of the projects, out of child abuse, out of a lack of opportunities. He wasn’t just a celebrity; he was proof that it was possible for everyone else downwind to survive without compromising their beliefs.
He pondered the question of whether we ever truly escape from the circumstances of our births, whether or not our past trauma lies perpetually in wait to create havoc in our present.
The genius of DMX as a writer and a performer lay in his ability to repackage the burdens of Black inner-city life in art that was vibrant and lively even in darkness. 1998’s “Ruff Ryders’ Anthem” serves its threats and aches in the form of skittering nursery rhymes: “N - - - - wanna try, n - - - - wanna lie / Then n - - - - wonder why n - - - - wanna die / All I know is pain, all I feel is rain / How can I maintain with that shit on my brain?” 1999’s “Party Up (Up in Here)” turns crushing pressures and a failing resolve into a rowdy club banger. New York street rap grew coarse in the late ’90s in response to the still-awful prospects of success in an era where, for some Americans, the economy boomed, but for the rest, the shortsighted scope of the Clinton welfare reform program (which, for the sake of bipartisan compromise, placed time limits on benefits and stiffened work requirements, creating paths to work for those able to climb the ladder but leaving the rest assed out down bottom), racist overpolicing, and three-strikes laws made it possible to go away for life without ever committing a violent crime. Suddenly, the grim realities DMX portrayed in early ’90s songs like “Make a Move” and “Born Loser” became prescient. He didn’t score a hit until his late 20s (like Jay-Z), but when we caught on to his work through “Get at Me Dog” or his appearances on the LOX’s “Money, Power, Respect” and LL Cool J’s “4, 3, 2, 1,” X found himself at the peak of his abilities and in the center of the moment. In the stretches at the turn of the century where he was arguably the biggest and best thing not just in New York but the country at large, he didn’t forget his origins or the difficulty shaking the history of pain and poverty he felt growing up. On the top, he didn’t dress flashily or turn into a kingpin on record. He stayed at street level speaking on street issues. He talked about how hard life was and still could be, not how good it got.
It’s all over the music, how unlikely and unbelievable that trajectory felt. At his peak, DMX was engaged in a tug-of-war between heaven and hell, and weighing his options with coaches from both teams. He philosophized about the rewards for doing good in “Fame,” from his 1999 sophomore album …And Then There Was X: “Now if I take what He gave me, and I use it right / In other words, if I listen and use the light / Then what I say will remain here after I’m gone / Still here off the strength of a song, I live on.” Frequently, on cuts like “Get It on the Floor,” from 2003’s Grand Champ, X grappled with dark forces: “And you motherfuckers wonder why I start shit / ’Cause when you look in my face, you see that hard shit / ’Cause I done been to hell and back, I ain’t with sellin’ crack / I’d rather rob a n - - - -, leave him with a shell up in his back.” On his 1998 debut on Def Jam, It’s Dark and Hell Is Hot, he bargains with the devil in “Damien,” then asks for guidance and absolution in “The Prayer” and “The Convo.” He recast the ups and downs of hood life as Gothic horror and Shakespearean drama. He pondered the question of whether we ever truly escape from the circumstances of our births, whether or not our past trauma lies perpetually in wait to create havoc in our present. Death comes up a lot in the music of DMX, as it did with figures like 2pac, but it isn’t, as has often been suggested through the years, proof of a gift of clairvoyance. Stats aren’t on our side, and we’re keenly aware of this. “We wasn’t s’posed to make it past 25,” Kanye West’s “We Don’t Care” goes. “Joke’s on you, we still alive.” “All of your young life, you’ve seen such misery and pain,” Donny Hathaway sang to his “Little Ghetto Boy.” “The world is a cruel place, and it ain’t gonna change.” “If I don’t fly, I’ma die anyway,” X’s “Let Me Fly” promises. “I’ma live on, but I’ll be gone any day.”
For a man whose journey to success included many years as a bold, open-faced stick-up kid, and whose music gave voice to the deepest, darkest thoughts it is possible for a man to have, DMX paid his karmic debts back in spades. He inspired fans with music about being true to yourself and noble and loyal to the people who stick with you, no matter what side of the law you operate on. X mentored the younger members of his Ruff Ryders label like Drag-On. He looked out for children who, like himself, were dealt impossible hands. The many stories of charity work at places like the Children’s Village, the school for troubled children he was sent to in his youth after disobeying and running away from an abusive mother, and visits with children with AIDS in his free time reveal a man dreaming of a world that doesn’t create the experiences that would transform a young Earl Simmons into the Dark Man. (There are those who found X’s good-natured, light-hearted moments jarring against the uncompromising brutality expressed in his music, and the more lurid instances of sexual violence and homophobia peppering the catalogue are reason enough to feel that way. But morality is a world of often jibing alignments, not a sliding scale, where several things can be true. This music can be coarse and offensive and also inspirational. And it’s fine to feel conflicted, or even to not and just never engage.) But in moments where DMX’s demons got the better of him, the grace that he extended to the disadvantaged and the less fortunate wasn’t necessarily reciprocated. Perhaps it is the price of playing the unflappable, unkillable gangster that we thought DMX could handle more than anyone should. Maybe we put too much faith in his resilience. Whatever the case, we didn’t take his suffering seriously enough. Instead, jokes were often made at the expense of his and others’ addictions, thanks to the dubious crassness of that time and our conditioning with regard to substances.
You cannot argue that he chose crack. His life’s a testament to what finds you when you’re left by institutional neglect and cultural rot to your own devices, and the arduous efforts required to even your odds.
The way we think and speak about hard drugs is tethered ineffably to the extreme and quite literally often cartoonish portrayal of use and users perpetuated in the heat of the War on Drugs. You came to believe that a person made a deliberate choice and concerted effort when they dabbled in substances, and this made it easier to grasp harsh charges for selling and possession, to push addicts off of public assistance, to suggest an underclass of citizens had earned its misfortune. DMX’s life story illuminates the lie in the bootstraps logic and the systemic oversights and failures that hinder the growth of children raised in “bad” neighborhoods. His hometown of Yonkers — split down the middle by the Saw Mill River Parkway, west of which families of color resided in low-income housing, and east of which white families enjoyed public parks and golf courses — was a hotbed of racial divisions where segregation in schooling and housing situated students of color in worse conditions than their Caucasian counterparts, where the more affluent residents fought tooth and nail against development of affordable-housing units on their side of town. In these schools, X, a smart but troubled child who’d later reveal he’d been diagnosed with bipolar disorder, presented a puzzle they could not solve. He bounced from institution to institution, feeling unwanted and misunderstood, believing that everyone else had given up on him. His first experience with crack came from a laced “woolie” blunt given to him as a teenager by a mentor who didn’t warn him of the risks. This flies in the face of the too-convenient messaging we’ve received about how people “end up in the streets.”
You can argue that DMX chose crime at various points in his journey, but you have to account for all the times people who should have been looking out for him failed him. You cannot argue that he chose crack. His life’s a testament to what finds you when you’re left by institutional neglect and cultural rot to your own devices, and the arduous efforts required to even your odds. Most of the millions hurt by broken systems never make the news; they walk the harrowing path to recovery, or they look out at us through laminated prayer cards, frozen forever in a moment of anticipated promise. DMX’s death should inspire us to rethink our flip and puritanical attitudes toward drugs, users, and addicts, and also to call on the music industry to do better by the artists who keep the lights on. Too many musicians give their all to the game only to land in dire straits when, years later, they become a burden. Too many legends lose their homes and their lives too early. Our elders are worth more than what they’re able to produce for us. Each light that blinks out is a reservatory of history and culture gone from us forever. How many more will it take to break the cycle?
RIP DMX
A few reflections on an historic career and unique talent
When I first heard “Get at Me Dog” in 1998 by first thought was “Def Jam was back.” The label, which had been home base to LL Cool J, Public Enemy and the Beastie Boys, had become an also ran in the hip hop wars. The Rick Rubin and Russell Simmons founded label had been bypassed, first by West Coast gangsta rap, the “bling bling” of Diddy’s Bad Boy and the rise of the South. Like Cold Chillin’, Uptown and Tommy Boy, Def Jam seemed ready to be another once important New York rap music enterprise slated for irrelevance.
DMX’s debut single on the label sounded like a Def Jam record — loud and aggressive, both in sound and vocals. But the Yonkers MC was both more street and, ultimately, more spiritual than any act previously on the label. Sponsored by the family Ruff Ryders label and signed by rising a&r guru Irv Gotti, DMX not only introduced himself as a force, but a slew of cutting edge talent (Eve, the Lox) from his area and gave Def Jam a shot of artistic credibility that foreshadowed a new era of hit artists that gave it a second wind, one that was redefined the label and hip hop.
DMX, whether produced by Dame Grease or Swizz Beats, had the ability to craft anthems that were the hip hop equivalent of arena rock — huge, chant-like choruses with rough and rugged lead vocals and easy to understand, yet distinctive verses. And that voice! So instantly identifiable all you needed to hear was his growl and you knew it was Dark Man X. As a performer he was one par with the greatest to step on a stage. His charisma, commitment and ability to connect with an audience was unique. Watch his performance at Woodstock ‘99 before 200,000 and see a solo MC rock as hard as any heavy metal band.
On a boat circling Manhattan in the early ‘00s I ended up at a table filled with black culture icons. Sitting at the head was Jay-Z who was, not surprisingly, dominating the conversation. 50 Cent, who Jay had toured with, was hot at the time and someone asked Jay how hard it was to follow him. Jay replied [and I paraphrase], “I toured with DMX.” He went on to talk about hearing DMX in the stadium’s hallway before he went on, barking like a dog in the dog into a microphone, hyping the crowd before attacking the stage with a slew of high energy hits. Then DMX ended his set with one of the prayerful reflections that was a trademark of his career. “And then I had to come onstage with ‘Hard Knock’ life,” said Jay-Z. This was in no way an admission of defeat by the Brooklyn MC. Hardly, Jay-Z made it clear he more than held his own. But it was an acknowledgement of what a force DMX had been in the game.
In 2013 I served as an associate producer on the Chris Rock directed comedy ‘Top Five.’ In every version of the script Chris had a scene with DMX in every draft. I worried that the rapper-actor, who had once had a promising career in movies, couldn’t be relied on to appear. Chris persisted and, on the day of his cameo, DMX showed up along with children, relatives and friends. Chris’ dream was to have DMX perform Charlie Chaplin’s “Smile” from inside a jail cell. Using a cell phone Chris showed DMX the lyrics which he was already a bit familiar with. DMX nailed the scene in a couple of takes, bringing his drama and humor to the piece. It’s a classic moment in a very funny movie.
What wasn’t in the film was moment I’ll never forget. We shot at an actual jail in Queens. During a break in the filmming DMX and one of his small daughters (I don’t remember which) walked into one of the cell’s we were utilizing. She was a small, fair skinned girl who held her father’s hand. He said to her, “Sometimes when Daddy’s away I’m in a place like this.” It was a moment both sweet and sad, since it spoke to a father trying to explain his life to his child and the reality of the detours from success that marked that life.
Dying at age 50 is way too young for anyone, much less the father of 15 who was such an incredible life force. Songs like “Party Up (Up in Here),” “Ruff Ryders Anthem” and “Stop Being Greedy,” and performances in ‘Belly’ and the underseen gem ‘Never Die Alone',’ give a glimpse of a profound talent. #ripDMX
A few reflections on an historic career and unique talent
Nelson George
|
DMX’s debut single on the label sounded like a Def Jam record — loud and aggressive, both in sound and vocals. But the Yonkers MC was both more street and, ultimately, more spiritual than any act previously on the label. Sponsored by the family Ruff Ryders label and signed by rising a&r guru Irv Gotti, DMX not only introduced himself as a force, but a slew of cutting edge talent (Eve, the Lox) from his area and gave Def Jam a shot of artistic credibility that foreshadowed a new era of hit artists that gave it a second wind, one that was redefined the label and hip hop.
DMX, whether produced by Dame Grease or Swizz Beats, had the ability to craft anthems that were the hip hop equivalent of arena rock — huge, chant-like choruses with rough and rugged lead vocals and easy to understand, yet distinctive verses. And that voice! So instantly identifiable all you needed to hear was his growl and you knew it was Dark Man X. As a performer he was one par with the greatest to step on a stage. His charisma, commitment and ability to connect with an audience was unique. Watch his performance at Woodstock ‘99 before 200,000 and see a solo MC rock as hard as any heavy metal band.
On a boat circling Manhattan in the early ‘00s I ended up at a table filled with black culture icons. Sitting at the head was Jay-Z who was, not surprisingly, dominating the conversation. 50 Cent, who Jay had toured with, was hot at the time and someone asked Jay how hard it was to follow him. Jay replied [and I paraphrase], “I toured with DMX.” He went on to talk about hearing DMX in the stadium’s hallway before he went on, barking like a dog in the dog into a microphone, hyping the crowd before attacking the stage with a slew of high energy hits. Then DMX ended his set with one of the prayerful reflections that was a trademark of his career. “And then I had to come onstage with ‘Hard Knock’ life,” said Jay-Z. This was in no way an admission of defeat by the Brooklyn MC. Hardly, Jay-Z made it clear he more than held his own. But it was an acknowledgement of what a force DMX had been in the game.
In 2013 I served as an associate producer on the Chris Rock directed comedy ‘Top Five.’ In every version of the script Chris had a scene with DMX in every draft. I worried that the rapper-actor, who had once had a promising career in movies, couldn’t be relied on to appear. Chris persisted and, on the day of his cameo, DMX showed up along with children, relatives and friends. Chris’ dream was to have DMX perform Charlie Chaplin’s “Smile” from inside a jail cell. Using a cell phone Chris showed DMX the lyrics which he was already a bit familiar with. DMX nailed the scene in a couple of takes, bringing his drama and humor to the piece. It’s a classic moment in a very funny movie.
What wasn’t in the film was moment I’ll never forget. We shot at an actual jail in Queens. During a break in the filmming DMX and one of his small daughters (I don’t remember which) walked into one of the cell’s we were utilizing. She was a small, fair skinned girl who held her father’s hand. He said to her, “Sometimes when Daddy’s away I’m in a place like this.” It was a moment both sweet and sad, since it spoke to a father trying to explain his life to his child and the reality of the detours from success that marked that life.
Dying at age 50 is way too young for anyone, much less the father of 15 who was such an incredible life force. Songs like “Party Up (Up in Here),” “Ruff Ryders Anthem” and “Stop Being Greedy,” and performances in ‘Belly’ and the underseen gem ‘Never Die Alone',’ give a glimpse of a profound talent. #ripDMX
This song right here? Dude...first time I heard this I was in Cali, headed to the airport. Must have played it about 100 times.
I'm up at like six AM to check this nigga
We work the night shift, and I gots to check them figures
I knock on his door, people talkin' 'bout "He ain't there"
But the house is packed, shit, I know he here somewhere
See, money get high, I don't knock what a nigga do to get by
Just make sure you gettin' by don't fuck with me gettin' mine
Ain't the first time he ran off, shoulda split his shit then
Hate to think of what he's did, and if I catch him slippin'
Won't be an ass-whippin, I can tell you that
I keep it real with this cat, he go and sell two packs
And run off (damn), tell me he was locked down up North
And you out a week later? That's bullshit! I bust off
I need this dough, fuck you think, I'm here for my health?
I need this wealth because I feed myself
You play with my life when you play with my money
Playin' around but this'll be the last time you think somethin's funny
One more road to cross
One more risk to take
Gotta live my life
Like there's one more move to make
One more road to cross
One more risk to take
Gotta live my life
Like there's one more move to make
Yo, I've been casin' the liquor store for a month now
With me and two other niggas is about to run up in there and shut it down
They got four people on the inside, one stay in the back
Two stock boys, one at the register, but he count the stacks
Aight, bitch, put on the ski mask, make sure that when we ask
For the dough, they know that we takin' all three bags
See that? We got a hero, shoot that nigga
Matter of fact, you hit the back, I'll put two in that nigga
Hard headed motherfuckers always get it
I told him what would happen if he moved, the nigga moved, so I did it
Did you get it? I asked my man as he was comin' from the back
Nigga opened his mouth, said nothin', and fell out flat
This cat come out spittin', hittin' my mans, his mans
Couldn't control what was in his hands
I'm hit, damn! I bust back and got the fuck up out of there
Didn't get a dime, but at least I got up out of there
One more road to cross
One more risk to take
Gotta live my life
Like there's one more move to make
One more road to cross
One more risk to take
Gotta live my life
Like there's one more move to make
Ay yo, I see it, try to avoid it, but it comes
That's how it's goin' in the slums over crumbs
Somethin' little becomes somethin' major
Niggas gettin' blown up like a pager, ear to ear with the razor
Pour out my soul, took control of hurt
Why must Earl Simmons swim in dirt?
I'm gon' make it work, twenty-eight and tryin' to get baptized
Priest scared to touch me 'cause he said I gave him bad vibes
Ride when I die, straight down, but I'm plottin'
We all gots to go but who wants to be forgotten?
imma a leave a mark, and it won't be the mark of the devil
Throw dirt and may your hands burn when you touch the shovel
The level of animosity is stoppin' me from thrivin'
Fuck what them niggas is talkin' about, I'm survivin'
Alive and goin' through it, but I made my bed
So now it's in these flames that I lay my head
I'm up at like six AM to check this nigga
We work the night shift, and I gots to check them figures
I knock on his door, people talkin' 'bout "He ain't there"
But the house is packed, shit, I know he here somewhere
See, money get high, I don't knock what a nigga do to get by
Just make sure you gettin' by don't fuck with me gettin' mine
Ain't the first time he ran off, shoulda split his shit then
Hate to think of what he's did, and if I catch him slippin'
Won't be an ass-whippin, I can tell you that
I keep it real with this cat, he go and sell two packs
And run off (damn), tell me he was locked down up North
And you out a week later? That's bullshit! I bust off
I need this dough, fuck you think, I'm here for my health?
I need this wealth because I feed myself
You play with my life when you play with my money
Playin' around but this'll be the last time you think somethin's funny
One more road to cross
One more risk to take
Gotta live my life
Like there's one more move to make
One more road to cross
One more risk to take
Gotta live my life
Like there's one more move to make
Yo, I've been casin' the liquor store for a month now
With me and two other niggas is about to run up in there and shut it down
They got four people on the inside, one stay in the back
Two stock boys, one at the register, but he count the stacks
Aight, bitch, put on the ski mask, make sure that when we ask
For the dough, they know that we takin' all three bags
See that? We got a hero, shoot that nigga
Matter of fact, you hit the back, I'll put two in that nigga
Hard headed motherfuckers always get it
I told him what would happen if he moved, the nigga moved, so I did it
Did you get it? I asked my man as he was comin' from the back
Nigga opened his mouth, said nothin', and fell out flat
This cat come out spittin', hittin' my mans, his mans
Couldn't control what was in his hands
I'm hit, damn! I bust back and got the fuck up out of there
Didn't get a dime, but at least I got up out of there
One more road to cross
One more risk to take
Gotta live my life
Like there's one more move to make
One more road to cross
One more risk to take
Gotta live my life
Like there's one more move to make
Ay yo, I see it, try to avoid it, but it comes
That's how it's goin' in the slums over crumbs
Somethin' little becomes somethin' major
Niggas gettin' blown up like a pager, ear to ear with the razor
Pour out my soul, took control of hurt
Why must Earl Simmons swim in dirt?
I'm gon' make it work, twenty-eight and tryin' to get baptized
Priest scared to touch me 'cause he said I gave him bad vibes
Ride when I die, straight down, but I'm plottin'
We all gots to go but who wants to be forgotten?
imma a leave a mark, and it won't be the mark of the devil
Throw dirt and may your hands burn when you touch the shovel
The level of animosity is stoppin' me from thrivin'
Fuck what them niggas is talkin' about, I'm survivin'
Alive and goin' through it, but I made my bed
So now it's in these flames that I lay my head