I think the lord is testin' me Whatzup y'all, hello world, this C-Murder I'm bout to put you in the mind of a crazy fucked up in the head muthafucka (this nigga sick) You know what I'm sayin? One of the muthafuckas you see in the news everyday, for doin' all types of crazy shit Chorus: Master P Sometimes, I think the lord is testin me But I'm a TRU nigga I can't let none of these niggaz and bitches get the best of me (repeat 4X) [C-Murder] Muthafuckas just don't understand the shit that I be goin' through I wanna kill myself, but I know, I gots to stay TRU Be gettin' my fuckin' hustle on, and stack my fuckin' dividends Cuz if I ain't got no money and I'm broke, fuck friends I feel like, I'm paralyzed cuz my own baby, won't hug me My momma, won't let me in the house cuz she talkin' bout she scared of me The only reason I sell drugs is survive The only reason I kill, is to stay alive I'm constantly watchin' my back cuz playa haters act like hoes But they don't wanna fuck with me cuz i turn bustas into John Does I'm not a role model so keep your kids up out my face Talkin' bout, I'm sellin' drugs ain't doin' nothin but killin', my own race Police can't catch me, betta kill me, ain't gon' let 'em arrest me They don't, understand I draw my nine faster than Jesse I've been know to have a temper, and I click quick, like this Befo' I was crazy, but now I'm strapped and I'm sick 187 killin' murder's a hobby Thank God, this be the charge, six counts armed robbery Back in the free world same shit, (ain't gon' change) Call V, say he got weed, but fuck, I need clothes man Damn, shoud I get that ski mask G? Should I rob him, try to get a job? Damn, the man's testin' me Chorus x2 [Silkk] I keep visualizin' jail cells, and closed caskets Put a credit to the grave he blastin fill my coffin laughin', chewin tobaco I'm just a gangsta livin' day to day, tryna survive Try to stay high to realize why my homies out there die Now why you keep on testin' me, sendin' these cops to arrest me Put me in bad situations, but I won't let life, get the best of me I was born in a fucked situation, but I'm not a born killa But I've seen some shit in my time, that escaped a grown nigga Wonder if, its a test, see how much I could hold up on my shoulder T-R-U 'cross my stomach, on my back, a fuckin' soldier It just don't seem right, it just don't seem right The shit a nigga go through, makin' me wanna scream like Mike It stresses me, its only after this I wants to know, if its a in if I kill a nigga, over self-defense Most of my people don't like me And a lot of 'em can't stand me But I wonder if its a sin if I kill and rob to feed my fuckin' family It's suvival of the fittest, you be my witness I don't give a fuck about the money Cuz I can't take none of that shit with me If its a test, then let me know But if its my time to go then let me go. Amen Chorus x2 [Master P] My record went gold, my family started money trippin I could look into the eyes of a nigga that wants to catch me slippin' Somebody hollered "Don't go out like Tupac!" That be the same nigga tryin' to fill me up, with buckshots The game get dirty that's why I'm blastin' Its plenty niggas out there wanna see the P, in a casket That's why they spread rumors, lies, I died Niggas don't wanna see another nigga get a piece, fo the fuckin' pie My friends trippin' cuz I got ends Niggas don't wanna see a black nigga rolin', in a fuckin' Benz My old lady say I'm stuck up I got to sleep with one eye open, this whole world is fucked up Got me poppin' dono Ask Bo but he don't know what P know about the ghetto You ain't got no dollars, you got no friends If I go to jail how many y'all niggas gon' visit me in the pen But if I die it be a million niggas at my funeral They wanna see me knocked out like Tyson, did Bruno If I wear red or a blue, then I'm a gang banga If I make gangsta rhymes, huh, then I'm a dope slanga Every nigga I used to know that didn't make it think I owe 'em somethin' Every nigga I know in the ghetto, huh ask me to front 'em somethin' My own company, niggas, want me to sign them up They don't think I could work for this shit and how hard it take to come up They too busy, throwin' tesses (tests) Got me strapped with pistols wearin' bullet proof vesses (vests) Every hoe I fuck, hope the rubber pop The media spread rumors I smoke too much weed, I guess they wanna see me smokin' rocks. Heh, I think the Lord is testin' me Either this a bad dream or my fuckin' mind messin' with me