เนื้อเพลง My Life - Meek Mill

[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 did so he couldn't raise me
I'm still tripping off them hoes that played me
Same b*tches fronting on me when I had my baby
It's crazy, and n*ggas say they made me
Taking credit from my mama, sh*t amaze me
How n*ggas talking down when I'm not around
But every time I'm in the building, schhh, not a sound
I line my haters up and clap them down
That choppa have n*gga dancing like he Bobby Brown
I'm well-respected in my city, even out of town
And don't ever tuck my chain
N*gga, how that sound? How that look?
We don't live by the book, we just live by the code
A lot of n*ggas got exposed when feds came through
They was dropping names too
N*ggas 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 p*ssy n*ggas 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 blew
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...

[Hook: French Montana]
N*ggas want me dead everyday that I wake up
F*ck what they talking 'bout, n*gga I'm talking paper
And here's another one, here's another one
Streets is watching
A new b*tch, new car
Her ass up, I go hard
And here's another one, here's another one
Streets is watching

[Verse 2: Meek Mill]
If I f*ck her, I'm brainless
She f*ck 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, n*ggas shoot and they'll aim at us
Shooting in the sky, you tryna hit the angels up
N*ggas tripping like I'm dipping off angel dust
And all these cubans 'round me neck getting tangled up
I only f*ck with bad b*tches that be trained to f*ck
Five n*ggas, ten b*tches running train on us
Looking at these rap n*ggas they all lame as f*ck
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
N*gga, I could score your b*tch with a flick of the wrist
Swear that Audemar flash light like I'm flicking a pic

[Hook]