Artist: Othorized F.A.M. Album: Hot Like Sahara Sand Song: Private Sessions Typed by: Cno Evil [Chorus 2X: Crunch Lo] It's like, all is trouble, smoking bones in huddles Reality hits and now I'm all about this hustle It's real, in this game, either life or death Keep me vexed, niggas like me, we all stressed [Crunch Lo] Aiyo, baked out my mind and it's 3 in the AM Sitting in my rest, thinking bout today's mayhem Jake on some shit, wanna pat me down Fucking up our whole mood, making the hot come down The fiends was fighting and my mans got hit last night Not my day, couldn't even get the whole rolled right I'm up tight and my prayers pain like migraines Projects a mess got my whole clique stressed Beans wit bitches and bitches and blunts blowing up All fucked up, so now I lounge in the cut Result of hatred until I make it And if I don't get what I want, then I'mma have to take it Body B then fits for lands of misfits Rather stay on point and keep the gat to a full clip And strong mind for chicks who try to play the tricks Hit 'em wit the dick and then I bounce real quick Up the ave and my winds are blowing But still be feeling leery in the middle of broad day Cuz niggas busting, baby's mother is steady cussing me out This shit is strange, I need a bone to my mouth [Lounge Lo] Private sessions, got me meditating through my lessons Meditating Killah Hill jack's slang perfecting Niggas try to poly and grease, and Molly like cards Pap sack, 20 guns coming with my squad I got a lesson on the Isle, profile to act wild But they child, the food of my thought, does the mile But who wanna be thug, who wanna bug Talking bout this real life, real drama, never bust a real slug What's happening here, it be the interlude rapping yea Hard rocks get five shots, step into my square If you dare enter, infered got your centered Bent out your tile, who gives a fuck about your mental It's a problem, my .38 snub done revolved them This continued, Othorized on this venue Twenty thousand, with my crew from the Housing Staten Island, Angelow, Loungin' Loungin' That's the wild style that I brought with my talk And my names just walk, and rep Shaolin, New York Who's the Riddick Bowe, who had a poke on my flow I jelly from the 1-6-Oh, and shotties blow I beg ya pardon, this the Hill, not the Garden From the fruit of G street, niggas is well known for starting [Chorus] [Crunch Lo] R.I.P. Ron Due, to my man, B.D. Two Cent, Pioneer and K-A-S to the E Stay fly, and I'm still trynna stay alive In these projects, the shorty's pack the tech But all in all, I refuse to take fall Survive like a trooper with my back on the wall Stand tall with my eyes open, scoping for drama Stop cats in they tracks like a comma Two a sentence, for ever representing Some snakes in my face always hissing and talking But niggas still stalking through my home, looking for This stint, but I stash the chrome, 45 If another of my man dies, it'll bug the hell out of me Holding a dream and we can all live lovely You know the situation and the life we live At any given time, something has to give [Chorus 2X]