Artist: Apocalipps f/ Blizzard
Album:  n/a
Song:   Hard Times
Typed By: pneumatic

[Apocalipps]
Things aint the same no more, I wanted to pitch in a league,
Now I'm on the corner pitchin that raw,
Damn, Lost dreams, Scams, More feinds, Grams.

[Blizzard, (Apocalipps)]
But the cops wanna shut down our plan, (Uh huh)
But still, Shit's real, (What) Stack more bills,
If you was in my shoes you would know how I feel,
(What's your name) Blizzard, So cold, Heart, So froze.

[Apocalipps]
Starvin, When my next meal's comin, Who knows,
But, I still grind till the sun come up,
You want a partnership, Make sure your ones is up,
Apocalipps, And you lucky I aint stickin your ass,
And fuck the judge that gave my cousin Truck six and a half.

[Blizzard]
Yeah, And tell his girl send up a few bags,
And for the Bastardz take a few drags,
Inhale that, And say what up.

[Apocalipps]
To my nigga Uey, hits, Jay Black,
Smash, Every underground artist to death,
Before I rep that shit I'd rather hold my breath,
It's Lipps, And I run this shit,
And when the Clan got cold, I'm the one you can to for a fix,
Kool-Aid ass nigga, Stayin all in the mix,
Exterminator, No way you aint spryin shit.

[Blizzard]
But this, Ruthless, Kid pitch nicks,
And like R. Kelly and Jay-Z I need chips pa,
Your money's thin, I guess you gone trim spa,
Thought you was big in the game, You aint that large,
So just, Take a L like the barge,
And go against my team you better step up your bars.