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you don't know me - symba (usa) lyrics

you don’t know me lyrics
[intro]
these n*ggas, these n*ggas think they know me, man
you n*ggas don’t know me, man
these n*ggas think they know me, man

[verse]
you think you know me, n*gga, you don’t know sh*t
don’t know my pain, don’t know my struggle, don’t know sh*t
don’t know my mama sold bricks ‘fore she sold crips
don’t know paps shot a cop and got 20 years
don’t know that i was born in jail with no chance
was a child when a prison [?]
i growin’ up with my aunt, that’s a [?]
berkley high, year book, i [?]
mom’s hit a bank, went to jail, had a son
that’s how i ended up going to school with my aunt
young n*gga, i ain’t never been no f*cking punk
i raise my fist before i raise a gun
never scared of defeat, the evils meet
f*ck a rap carrer beef, live right across the street
tryna risk it all to get [?]
i’m bringing my n*ggas peace, this all ’bout to increase
tryna buy crips, no rent, no more lease
tryna gain stock from california to greece
zeus got born but we ain’t got insurance so if sum’ happen who gon’ look out for him?
i know 5 n*ggas who died in 3 days
2 shot, one died of old age, 2 more locked in a cage
they say “bring that real back like back in the day”
that pimp [?], that’s mixed with the j
that’s big pimpin’, oh yeah, we big pimpin’

seeking arrangements from here to indiana
brought her to cali but met her in atlanta
she want the money, i got her where i want her
nowadays, n*ggas ain’t tryna hustle
give ’em soap and water, i bet they would bubble
they keep playing like people supposed to give ’em sum’
your can cry about this sh*t or you can cut a onion
you can go get what you want or you can sit and struggle
can’t be livin’ of your mama tryna be the man
a broke n*gga ain’t somebody who’s not getting bands
a broke n*gga is somebody who don’t have a plan
i put this work in on my own so you understand
god already gave me two, i do not need a head
i be going hard as diddy, tryna make a band
just a bar with my n*gga royce on the [?]

[outro]
you think you know me, n*gga, you don’t know sh*t
you think you know me, n*gga, you ain’t live this
clothes from the flea market, i was a infant
i’m cooking crack [?] like [?]
you think you know me, n*gga, you don’t know sh*t
you think you hold me back, my n*gga, hold this
you think you know me, n*gga, you don’t know sh*t

- symba usa lyrics

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