September 7th - Sean Leon

I hear the beat and start crying

It’s quarter past 4 I’m on the corner still trying

I quarterback it all, just trying to make my quota

A stranger on this corner so I barely make a quarter back

I’m at the condo with Cardo

Apartment in Parkdale that’s where I do my recording

Meetings with Solo, that’s my shooter up in Sotto & Sotto

In the 6 but it ain’t OVO though

Money Team ain’t no squares in my oval

I shine around the world bitch I’m global*

At the shows meeting fans taking photos

Barely making rent off the show dough

Back when I would smoke with Lim he’d teach me how to cope with things

He told me cut the grass and don’t you let the cobras in

He could have been Kobe with a little coaching

But on my culture that’s my nigga we’ll be close again

My auntie walking with a cane

I’m walking through the rain

I’ve barely got a dollar to my name

Every dollar I would gain, would be the same dollar I’d deposit to the game

I charge it to the game

Baby mama stressing

I’m counting down the days, she told me count my blessings

I’d rather count the paper, mama call the reverend

Like I need Jesus, there’s things that need addressing

Like why I ain’t got no deal

My baby brother off the pill, I want to fight him that’s my blood for real

I guess he likes the thrill

My bigger brother kind of liked it too

He in the bin now and I ain’t even writing to him

I got my own problems

I got my daughter in December

It’s edging on November

Can’t even make the rent out my apartment in September

Been broke since like forever

So if ya' nigga ever hit a lick I can’t remember

What the feeling is like

I wonder what a million is like

All my niggas in the building tonight

Ready to make a killing tonight

I could chill or peel a cap, nigga that’s life

I could seal a pack, deliver that, and deal with the strife

Or I could stomach that and cry into my pillow tonight

I punk niggas, black punk nigga for life

What’s up with niggas?

The cost of living, I know they livid

Sean Leon, the Corleone, my core frigid

On point with every sentence, like I’m fencing

On guard, so it’s offensive when you say I’m next then

Like I ain’t Wayne Gretzky meets Bruce Wayne meets Hussein

I got that bomb, I’m 2 Chainz meets Wu-Tang

I’m Pootie-tang when the pistols pop, her pussy came

If you’re dissing, don’t be sneaking, say my name

I’m from the era of shitty virals and cheapened fame

I fall in love with a moment I’ll never need again

I hope I see it with my friends before I see the end

Until we meet again

It’s over