Song Lyrics

Death on my block ain't worried
Glidin' through the air, ain't cautious, yeah, yeah, yeah
Mind on the ground, ain't dreamin'
Thing on my waist been leanin', yeah, yeah, yeah
Hustle for a job, they still ain't called back
Dope in the hood, ain't movin' like that
Chain and your watch, I need all that (all that)
M's in the bank, I need all that
So run it, mane

Front row at the Grammys, I'm getting praises from JAY
F*ck about this award, I'm happy he know my name
Favorite rapper, Nas, been told me that I'm the best
Had a couple sessions with Dre, knew I would win
Alchemist my favorite producer, and he my friend
All this love from the greats, put my passion in pen
Let me tell you 'bout this story where Quincy died, I started
I left jail on house arrest and now ever since I've been starvin'
You know, pain on my mama's face when the opps'll call me a loser
And the cheap shit, her son quit sports to become a Crip
Another single mother that failed, lost her son in the mix
Workin' hard through all her problems, her son just couldn't be fixed
Got off house arrest, just sprinkled some orange in my blue shoes
Nigga, ask Traffic, Baby Deuce, yeah, and T too
Baby Love, Baby Spank, Big Spank, Big Fool
The first Fig-Side originals, and you ain't gotta recruit
Smack, Floyd, G-Scrap, nigga, the main crew
Flossy B was locked in, but he normal, he came through
Nigga, 51st and Fig, on the corner
Mayhem was slaughtered months later like this shit ain't happened, I'm with my daughter
At the laundry mat, the shots rang off, I ducked to the back
Wishin' for a strap but hear more fire from Tiny Rat
Got the devil on my side while the Lord been pushin' me over
I can finally understand why my uncles was never sober
Dead beat dad on the gas, that gas my motor
Either grab the mic, nigga, grab the same pistola
I can easily tell my story now and climb from this moment
Just imagine Joy's hope if I died next mornin'
Just imagine some of these rappers that ain't have Q
The godfather of this street shit that gave y'all truth
From Pac, Snoop, Kurupt, Daz, bitch, I'm deja vu
You see my homie in the hood 'cause I hate y'all too

Ooh, death on my block, ain't worried
Glidin' through the air, ain't cautious, yeah, yeah
Mind on the ground, ain't dreamin'
Thing on my waist been leanin', yeah, yeah
Hustle for a job, they still ain't called back
Dope in the hood, ain't movin' like that
Chain and your watch, I need all that (all that)
M's in the bank, I need all that (all that)
Ten freaky girls, need all that (all that)
Love from the world, need all that
So run it, mane

Quincy Hanley

The duration of Attention is 3:21 minutes and seconds.