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Credits
PERFORMING ARTISTS
Isaiah Rashad
Vocals
Carter Lang
Bass
D. SANDERS
Keyboards
Terrace Martin
Saxophone
COMPOSITION & LYRICS
Isaiah Rashad McClain
Songwriter
PRODUCTION & ENGINEERING
Chris Calor
Producer
Lyrics
Uh, uhm, yeah, uh-huh
Uhm, yeah, uhm, this a room
I got two cigarettes to my last name
I clock in for the check but I don't wanna go
I got two cigarettes to my last name
I clock in for the check but I don't wanna go
She said you, you can't save em all
She said you, you can't save em all, yeah
She said you, you can't save em all, yeah
I mix a gallon of the gallon in a gallon of that
And down that in your Nissan for the memory
For the energy, for the Tennessee
Fam called work all work just to visit me
I bought an ounce just to fuck with you
He don't take no hand outs, he don't take no hand outs
Remember what my poppa told me
Remember what my poppa told me
Trust inward, trust in ya, my nigga, my friend of
Last of the divine livin'
So timid, all on us
Dog on it, they would laugh at the small moments
Then call on us
Like who had you on your bad day?
Who dropped you at that bitch house?
Like back when we was little
I was just an instrumental
Now I'm Malcolm in a million
We talked about a billion
We talked about our feelin's
We kept it more than realest
And look at how the path came
Took it for the rap fam
Would ya give ya all to the world
The work, work, and left hurt?
Shit and what's worse
She too tired to talk, lately your thumbs hurt
We miss love and sex bridgin' your son's birth
21 hurts in court by 24, boy
You can't save 'em all
She said you, you-you, you can't save 'em all, um
She said you, you-you, you can't save 'em all, um
I write pissed ass livin', fuck that shit
Fuck call centers, fuck is this really growin' up my nigga?
Tax on your motherfuckin' nuts my nigga
1025 what the fuck can a nigga do with 1025?
Plus your weed habit plus my weed habit and your weed habit
For free givin' we livin' with a weed daddy, two kids
Mix that Boosie with that boom-bap
You rap like you need money like you don't love this
My shit chewed up your jury before you judged this
Pull up, lick on my dick like ain't it gorgeous
For those that can't afford this
It be like I got, I got
I got my own world, I got my own mind
Day dreamin' for a lunch break for my son's sake
On the run for the fun's sake
I clock in for the check but I don't wanna go
I clock in for the check but I don't wanna go
You, you can't save em all
Writer(s): Chris Calor, Isiah Mcclain
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