Artist: Slaughterhouse Album: House Rules Song: Struggle Typed by: Nickolye16@aol.com [Crooked I] Lord! Uh, I'm havin +Rob a Nigga Thoughts+ like the Horseshoe Got all the tools in my box, I'm a nut missin a corkscrew Sittin on my porch thinkin this rappin ain't gon' happen Cause faggots rappin that like I'm the wrong nigga to pass the torch to Momma stressin cause her rent's due Can't borrow money from none of the homies, them niggaz in a pinch too My co-connect, he got pinched too Andy Dufresne escapin Shawshank, the shit I been through (Lord!) Refrigerator empty, inner anger in me simply waitin to incubatin for if a hater tempt me I'ma disintegrate him quickly Spray the .380 'til bullets penetrate his kidney Sometimes I just wanna fall asleep in the tub loaded on drugs like I was imitatin Whitney Talk to God, just pray that he forgive me and sleep, rest, depressed, I been stressin Weight of the world on my chest, like I'm bench pressin the planet, I get dressed, on a one-man mission Hopped in my bucket with a bad transmission, my hands itchin Yeah I'm past bitchin and complainin, and I ain't tryin to land in nobody's damn prison But I gotta take a chance, man listen My pops was a magician like David Blaine mixed with a mime, he disappeared, didn't say a thang Nigga bounced out, out to Hutchinson, Kansas Now I gotta find out where this fuck nigga pants is Man of the house, threw on his trousers Nothin like a child in them pedophile browsers But still a child lost his innocence and a frown lived where the smile did Snatch purses and rap verses, I was a wild kid Fast forward to this gun in your face Mouth covered in tape, I want what's in your safe I want you to resist So I can take all of my anger out on someobdy who ain't got nuttin to do with this shit! (Lord!) [Chorus: Crooked I] You don't know about the struggles in this bitch Late at night, stomach growlin while you cuddle with your bitch And they tell me I would even go through troubles if I'm rich But I'd rather have somethin - cause havin nothin is a bitch (Lord!) [Interlude: Crooked I] La la-la la la lahhh You don't know about the struggles in this bitch (Lord!) La la-la la la lahhh You don't know about the struggles in this bitch (Lord!) [Crooked I] God bless the child that got his own, let's see I ain't got nothin, I wonder will God bless me? I ain't sayin bein rich'll make me stress-free But I'd rather see what that do while I'm on my jet skis (Lord!) Yeah right, I'm hungry e'ry night And I never smile, got my poker face air tight Down on my knees accidentally usin profanity I can't even say a prayer right - I just want a pair of Nikes I just wanna wear a white tee and keep my hair tight I just want a fair fight, I just want a fair life! Is that too much to ask for? Tell me is that too much to ask for? [Chorus]