Lost Battles

"The Object of the Game", by The Notorious B.I.G.

The object of the game, dog, gotta make money

Take money even if you gotta take the plate from me

If they on the run eating, fuck it, take the steak from 'em

If it's rare, who care, man?

I love and hate money

On the real though, can't let the love escape from me

'Cause the hate make a nigga wanna shake and break something

Trying to put my three kids in the lap of luxury

So I gotta hustle hard to even live comfortably

Who the fuck said life would be like this?

I can't blow, man, I'm rhyming over beats like this

Rock a hundred dollar trees and a fresh new hat

My kids all got LeBrons and my wifey stacked

So I don't even know why I sit and complain

I got two oh sixes, my tax insane

But the money make the world go round, my nigga

Find myself broke down, to' down off liquor

I've lost my battle before it starts

My first breath wasn't done

My spirit's sunken deep into the ground

I've lost my battle before it starts

My first breath wasn't done

Yeah, yeah, yeah

My spirit's sunken deep into the ground

Ayo

It's the American dream to rule the evil

They got me going bug, man, I'm losing people

Wake up midnight start pacing hallways

Got my mind on my money and it's funny, it's all day

I need big whips, big chains and all that

Hundred acres and mattress for a doormat

I'm always making moves, I can't fall back

Each dollar that I lose, I'm like, respawn, react

I make a few stacks, I put it all on Black, '

Cause it ain't never enough and that's actual fact

At the bar with my niggas, all shots on me

And then I'm broke the next day, how I'm gon' eat?

So I work like a slave just to make ends meet

Infinite pursuit of cash, it'll make friends beef

And I'm sick of feeling like I'm down and out

So I'ma kick the ceiling, start wilding out

What?