Marc Goone, Hunger (feat. Futuristic): We need your help!

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by Marc Goone

You may be younger than me
More humble than me
But ain't nobody got more hunger than me
When they gonna tell me what I'm gonna be
I blocked them out to the sound of the beat
And I been
Vibin' my mind
Reside on islands
When I be rhymin
And now I finally
Found it
My sound is
Finally comin' out the way I mean it when I write it
Every night I'm rippin up the weed and I'mma light it
Workin at it now and I don't even get excited
If I had the dough
I wouldn't care if people like it
But I don't
But I got this
With a little dough in my pockets
Prolly wouldn't go
As hard as I do if I knew that I had another option
I'm grindin 5 to 9
And I know no amount of
Time is enough I'm tryna
Climb and damn right
I'm outta my mind
I'm movin
Product alotta the pot I got it
I'm probably not gon stop it
Till I get popped with a lot is so

You ain't got more hunger than meYou may be younger than me
More humble than me
And pummel a beat
More cunning than me
But know one thing if you comin at me
You ain't got more hunger than me

You ain't got more hunger than meNowaday ya better bet that I'm not about to give a shit if people think I'm never gonna make it when I rap (nope)
Lookin back I never really bought in
Didn't believe it and before when you would doubt it I would take it as attack
Try to go and put it in the past
I didn't even know where I was at
That's what's runnin through my stomach
I would plummet
Even utter
You don't love it
I rebut it
Time's a hundred
Now it's been alleviated, deviated from relying
On people tellin me I need to be this y'all be quiet
I'mma do without a movement now I know I gotta do it got it movin nobody gonna keep me down I'm flyin

More hunger than Jared before Subway
I drop a video like every single Sunday
I swear to God I'm so tired of saying 'One Day'
Fun Day
I turned down a deal on Monday
I won't sell my soul for a couple dollars
Then make lame songs Gucci Louie Fendi Prada
Top models?
Shit a nigga already got em
I'm pushing this way
Somebody come spot em
I'm lookin like a boss in my city
Still hungry like I'm Rick Ross in my city
Yeah that was a fat joke, bad joke
Where's the ranch, bro?
I got sauce in my city! (sauce)
And I ain't stoppin till my crib got a pool in it
Basketball court with twenty rooms in it
A movie theatre a maid with big boobs
Take my kids to school will I'm making big moves in it
And I'm chaisin that dream
Eatin beats just like cookies and ice cream
Coco home on my team like Ice-T
Watchin games courtside just like spike-lee soo
You should do the right thing and direct all that hatred to somebody else
And if you got beef I'm about to have a feast and I eat that shit all by myself

Contributed by Ava N. Suggest a correction in the comments below.
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