Coulda Been

And they say, and they say
And they say, and they say
They say, they say, they say
A lot of stuff, y’know what I mean?
Don’t know where I coulda been
If I wasn’t doin' this thing right here, shit, yo
If I wasn’t rappin', I’d probably be wrastlin'
Hand to hand grapplin' on the corner of Madison
Or real-estating, trying to sell you a mansion
Or rollerblading, doing 360 flatspins
Or I’d probably be flipping a burger
Attempting a murder, or paralyzed, sippin' on Gerber
I could be working at Jewels, chain snatching
Jerking your jewels, homeless, working for food
I might be cleaning your pool, teaching your school, preaching to fools
Leeching, smoking weed to be cool
At DMVs, holding lines up
Or wind up in line-ups, time’s up
Full of holes in a hole in a fine tux
Out on parole, out of control, holding your dime up
I could be lazy, sitting on your couch
Or I could be crazy, cussing pigeons out
I could be hustlin' bags
Strugglin' bad
If I wasn’t up in the lab
Shit, I just might be cuttin' your grass
Walkin' your dog, pumpin' your gas
Or nothin' at all
I could be thanking the academy
A friend of the family, your man delivering bail
Or I could be the man that delivers your mail
Or I could be taking the stand, drinking on L
This could be my third life, on my third strike
On my third wife, or garbage on my first mic
I could’ve got off easy, that nigga deserved life
Or the Orkin man, searching for termites
I could be sticking up convenience stores
Or twisting up what you fiendin' for
Or getting buck with the meanest whores that been giving up
On top of building, leaning forward, with no wings to soar with
They could’ve kidnapped my daughters
Been extorted for a couple of portions
I might be drunk from the Mo', stumbling slow
Someone to know, running the show, or shovelin' snow
I could be hustlin' bags
Strugglin' bad
If I wasn’t up in the lab
Shit, I just might be cuttin' your grass
Walkin' your dog, pumpin' your gas
Or nothin' at all
I could be startin', guardin', or planting a garden, or security guardin'
Or I could be starvin' and eating out your garbage
And found stardom starrin' in sitcoms with Martin
I could’ve been marchin' with Martin
Handcuff, nullface, over the face with no comment
I might not even be dark-skinned
I might not even be conscious, comatose from an overdose
An R&B singer blowing the notes
A tailor sewing a coat, a sailor rowing a boat
I could’ve boxed a little, fought for the title
Lost and lost my vitals on the way to the hospital
I could’ve lost my business
Won the lotto and lost my ticket
I could be the last one to cross the finish
I could be you, I could be him, you could be me, we all got a job to do
I could be hustling bags
Struggling bad
If I wasn’t up in the lab
Shit, I just might be cutting your grass
Walking your dog, pumping your gas
Or nothing at all