Artist: Trae f/ Jadakiss, Styles P Album: Life Goes On Song: Smile Typed by: Lil Hustle (*talking*) Ya know, I never did understand why they always told me to smile Shit, it ain't too much shit out here to smile fo' Real talk, know it's still Asshole By Nature peep game [Trae] I remember coming up, labeled a lil' nigga Watching niggaz fuck over they own, but see I kept it realer But being real, ain't always what niggaz make it to be I never thought me making it, would have niggaz hating a G I got enough shit that I deal with, on a day to day Penitentiaries and life after death, don't seem to go away Even though I never know the outcome, something say to pray I try to do my best to understand, he right around the way I got a call from Mr. Rogers just the other day, telling me he by my side I'm like what the fuck you talking bout, till he told me Laurna died It fucked me up so much, I couldn't even go to the wake But if her family call, I'm gon' make sure that they straight It's like this part of my life I live, is damn near mastered The mo' people I love, the more they get took away faster Sometimes I feel talk to God, a lil' more than the pastor Probably to live, and make sure my son never become a bastard I never been the one to quit, I always been a leader But I feel this world is like a bitch, and I know I don't need her If I knew it was this, I'd never take the time to meet her So I feel the frown across my face, the only way to greet her In the process of being Trae, I missed out as a child Probably cause reality my style And they told my cousin death before he 30, after checking his file He damn near 28, so how the fuck am I suppose to smile shit (*talking*) I don't know my nigga, I ask myself the same shit ery'day How the am I suppose to smile, life's real over here ya know [Styles P] Styles don't smile, the hood too foul Them lil' niggaz is wild, man lost trial Hit him with some numbers, he ain't eating during chow He ain't even sleeping, even thinking bout his child It's real fucked up, but he won't see him for a while Same bullshit, trying to get you a money pile We all see the revolve, the jail doors locked I keep the tech, with the airholes cocked Now I don't wanna shoot or get shot, but Pinero's not Gon' fuck with these fucked niggaz, I aired those blocks It's real hard to sleep, when it's money on the mind And murder on the mind, puffing on the dutch With a fistfull of iron, somebody mom crying Cause somebody boy dying, it's the same old shit From the wake to the funeral, the same old trip Crack money rap money, the same old grip Asked Trae, he could of smiled down in Texas living restless Said the cops gon' get you, or niggaz'll leave you breathless Shit I'm a winner, mo' like a sinner Trying to make it to dinner then, live out to breakfast ya know (*talking*) Trae, S-P how the fuck are we suppose to smile Nigga, answer me that, maybe I'll fucking smile ya know [Jadakiss] Nothing to smile about, these lil' niggaz is wilding out If you do something to em, they dialing out Everybody looking at you, like you fouling out Every hood everywhere, this what it's now about Where shooters is half your age, give you half the gauge Daily news, half the page Known as a thug now, he ain't just fly Couple months in the group home, in D.F.Y. Truthfully what could of been pending, never did And he slid as a youthful offender, cause he's a kid Problem is, person he shot was connected He coming home thinking it's sweet, and don't expect it Big but he's still young, to him it's still fun 3-60 waves new gear, blue steel gun And they say, you ain't promised tomorrow They got the drop, hit him right in his head with a hallow uh