It Was Written [explicit] Lyrics - Dave East

Six million ways to die 

(Took a lot to get this Rollie nigga) 

Six million ways to get rich 

(Huh, hah) 

Everybody keep telling me "make a club record" 

You ain't trapping no more, stop making drug records 

You got a daughter bout to come, stop making thug records 

I brought that money back fast, I had the plug flexing 

Welcome to Harlem, el Barrio, that's the drug section 

Hit your bitch with my jeans on, ain't making love naked 

I got love for my loco but I know cuz reckless 

I ain't gotta sleep in the projects, I did enough stressing 

My father was a rolling stone but taught me one lesson 

Do your dirt by yourself, your friends be the ones telling 

I knew it broke my mother's heart to know her son selling 

I had coke in my dresser, trifling as ever 

I had a dream Biggie featured me on Life After 

I be with my same niggas, I don't really like rappers 

Niggas can't make a song for nothing but they nice actors 

Go and get a movie role, low bagging up tuna rolls, raw shit 

I come from a block where you seen it but never saw shit 

I be at the juice bar, my wheat grass and bark shit 

My younging just came from up north, he want to park shit 

Tryna teach him something bout life and how we started 

Lower class poverty, homies from jail calling me 

Playing the number everyday but never hit the lottery 

Liquor store on every corner, might as well get drunk 

I remember that free lunch wasn't shooting, we would jump stones 

Niggas like the end of the blunt, traps load up 

I told papi I got him by the end of the month 

I was thinking bout 550's with the cinnamon guts 

These shots'll blow your mind away, now your memory dust 

And memory of, I got a JF Kennedy buzz 

Presidential called enterprise, I need another rental 

Tryna take a package down to North Carolina 

Maybe buy some Ferrigamo, I'm so focused on the commas 

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If you never been broke it's gon' be hard to feel me 

Only Allah get my flow, it's gon' be hard to kill me 

They say practice make perfect, we at it every day 

Thinking about that consignment, sometimes I never paid 

It was written I'm gifted, homie come learn something 

Conversations bout paper homie, let's burn something 

It was written I'm gifted, homie come learn something 

Conversations bout paper homie, let's burn something 

It's hard to stop what's already in motion 

I ain't gotta hit your blunt, I've already been smoking 

G Star denims on my Shmurda shit 

In '08 my mental was really on some murder shit 

Cause nothing was work enough 

Just to pass the time started working out 

Me and my nigga Jay Black from way back 

He a Bronx nigga, met him in Queens 

Butch crib, met up with fiends 

Imagine Nas signed you, hell of a dream 

Somebody pinch me 

Promise nothing they say ever getting to me 

Used to watch House Party, not kidding play listen to me 

This that talk that make the hustlers want to open shop 

This that stash house talk, don't let 'em know the spot 

This that talk that got my city wanting to rap again 

This that all black everything like an African 

This that middle of the summer in a trench coat 

Glock 19 reminding them of how you been broke 

Photos 

If you never been broke it's gon' be hard to feel me 

Only Allah get my flow, it's gon' be hard to kill me 

They say practice make perfect, we at it every day 

Thinking about that consignment, sometimes I never paid 

It was written I'm gifted, homie come learn something 

Conversations bout paper homie, let's burn something 

It was written I'm gifted, homie come learn something 

Conversations bout paper homie, let's burn something 

I talked my way right up out the projects nigga 

Put your mind to it, anything is possible haha 

From a hole in the wall, yeah 

Now we in the presidential suite man 

Top floor, flower for your bust nigga 

Harlem, yeah