Linkz Boogz - 10,000 Hourz

Gotta play that from the top
Put the headphones louder
This another masterpiece right here
It’s the boogie man
Yo, Uh
There’s a lot of paper that i gotta get
There’s a lot of that and not a lot of this
In this life it’s only one way out of this
Wanna eat? then you gotta learn how to fish
I don’t even think hell is as hot as this
I don’t like to get into the politics
Work a regular job, i get tired of this
I wanna make pies like my uncle Radames
Give me them challenges, do it and conquer it
Hoping my music will travel the continents
With 10,000 hours i gathered my confidence
They made me a monster now suffer the consequence
My heart has been cold with no fleece
Rapping at shows with no seats
Clapping these hoes with no sheets
To get what i want gotta show teeth
They pressed like shirts with no creese
When it comes to this rap they want no beef
And these b****** is birds like poultry
To accomplish my goals i stay low key
Get hello to this ghetto poetry
Get it done and put myself on now
Brainstorm and finish the song now
I get up whenever i fall down
Parents fought so i was a lost child
N***** play my old songs, those are lost files
Push P’s, man i’m the boss now
Taking over the world like a Rothschild
Stuck in the hood and lost in my ways, it took me a minute to find myself
F*** a label, they don’t wanna sign me? I’ll make my own record label then i’ll sign myself
There’s a lot of paper that i gotta get
There’s a lot of that but not a lot of this
There’s no way out of this
There’s a lot of paper that i gotta get
There’s a lot of that but not a lot of this
There’s no way out of this
I keep saying i’m done drinking Hennessy
Things get blurry don’t know who’s the enemy
They pop and they act like a friend of me
All i ask is they keep the same energy (Lord!)
I could tell who is really my dogs
I could tell who be switching identities
Watch for the serpents they slither like centipedes
I put in my 10,000 hours or more
So now i’ma flaunt my s***
They don’t wanna give me my round of applause
That’s poor sportsmanship
Put the flame to the mic and i torch the s***
So when i spit of course it’s lit
Let it breathe, i don’t force the s***
Got a hold of this i never lost my grip
I come through, i put in my time and i leave
I buy it, i bag it, i sell it for me
Im sorry i’m like this but nothing is free
With me there’s no greed, i’m the humblest G
Theres a lot of that and not a lot of this
My fam out the ghetto, i gotta get
F*** a regular job man, that ain’t it
Where we gotta put up with a lot of s***?
Gotta be in charge of my own biz
If they ask i can say i own this
Linkz Boogz on that grown s***
Im a smart seed, i done grown piff
Take control live with no ifs
Keep your cool homie, don’t trip
Stay listening, keep closed lips
Have discipline, make the doe flip

Written by:
Michael Taveras

Publisher:
Lyrics © O/B/O DistroKid

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