Nobody's Smiling - Common, Malik Yusef

don’t stop

their trap

Hand in the pot

Baby, that’ll do it

don’t stop

their trap

Hand in the pot

Baby, that’ll do it

don’t stop

their trap

Hand in the pot

Baby, that’ll do it

don’t stop

their trap

Hand in the pot

Baby, that’ll do it

I’m from Chicago, nobody’s smiling

Niggas wylin' on Stoney Island

Where the chief and the president come from

Pop out, pop pills, pop guns

On the deck when the opps come

Pop some, ops run

This ain’t a game nigga, ain’t no options

Nigga selling on the block like an auction

Dig into my pockets, see a profit

Where the money and the bitches is where the guys is

Godfathers in the lodges, at the spot holding money like a hostage

She went ostrich, from the projects with posture

I draw with the goddess like an artist

Getting paper with no margins, money gods

I do it for Hadiya and Trayvon Martin

don’t stop

their trap

Hand in the pot

Baby, that’ll do it

don’t stop

their trap

Hand in the pot

Baby, that’ll do it

don’t stop

their trap

Hand in the pot

Baby, that’ll do it

don’t stop

their trap

Hand in the pot

Baby, that’ll do it

In the Chi ain’t a damn thing funny

Thinking of ways to get money

Drive down Lake Shore, scheming how to make more

If we ain’t eating together what is this cake for?

Ain’t nobody giving it, that’s what we take for

Niggas is broke, what I need to brake for

Glaciers of ice, lasers, and lice

Let the chains glow heavy, we paid for 'em twice

Made for the life, fall out like we out of bounds

Bars and guns, niggas got a lot of rounds

Tripping like you from out of town

The four pound will leave you on the ground without a sound

Ain’t no fathers 'round, sons of anarchy

Fighting attempts, trafficking, and grand larceny

At the party with the thots with the extra body

I’m in the inner city, it’s an out of body experience

don’t stop

their trap

Hand in the pot

Baby, that’ll do it

don’t stop

their trap

Hand in the pot

Baby, that’ll do it

don’t stop

their trap

Hand in the pot

Baby, that’ll do it

don’t stop

their trap

Hand in the pot

Baby, that’ll do it

don’t stop

their trap

Hand in the pot

Baby, that’ll do it

don’t stop

their trap

Hand in the pot

Baby, that’ll do it

don’t stop

their trap

Hand in the pot

Baby, that’ll do it

don’t stop

their trap

Hand in the pot

Baby, that’ll do it

Face on T-shirts with no hashtags

Just big ass trash bags tagged hash

Out here shit been trill

Fake ass gangster, quick to take a fag’s cash

Five versus six, Star Wars

No stickers, real bullet holes in car doors

Out of ten people that was shot, 7 ate 9's

Two trey 8's, and one 45

Tryna get to 23, numbers game

Then here come the fame

But they won’t say no names

Are these celebrities way too shy to be loyal to the town

I take my publishing check and spread my royalties around

Popes, bishops, disciples, stones

Counts, princes, lords, queens, and kings

They drilling on my land but ain’t no oil to be found

I might be part of the problem

I guess they just tryna prove they can back that shit up

Most of them can’t even moonwalk

My little cousin Bump J don’t know what he did when he introduced that goon talk

Is there a Scarface casting at the crib I don’t know about?

So many shortys have tried out for the role

That’s why he slide out and ride out with the pole

Now I see how my daddy felt the dark day he discovered that black power didn’t

keep the lights on

Right on, the dearly departed still rapping to you

Looking for some yellow, white, red, black, brown flesh to write on

How long will they mourn me after I’m out of mind, out of sight, gone

A crash, a head-on collision affects both riders the most

G.O.O.D.

music in the building, yeah we got ghostwriters

They just actually ghosts