| Project City to Rochester |
| 585, trust, yo |
| Uh, circa 1994, spot 'em on an iron horse |
| Nigga try to floss 'til a nigga eyeing yours |
| Run up on 'em with the toolie, make you run 'em off |
| Any hiccups with the stickup then the iron letting off |
| Many niggas died tryin' to prove they ain’t soft |
| Era of the killers, gotta watch where you walk |
| White fiends juggle rock, call 'em Pistol Pete |
| Hit that Freaky Tah and they shake like Mr. Cheeks |
| Streets is the origin, the birth is the grail |
| Lease to the hearse so the coffin will sell |
| Product of the product that my father used to sell |
| 'Fore my lines hit the streets, weigh 'em on a scale |
| Hammer or the nail, you the ant or the boot |
| Niggas love lies, they’re allergic to truth |
| The proof in the pudding but it’s pork in that food |
| Like Elijah the Messenger, I caution you, dude |
| Look, all I cared about was clientele |
| I might as well, when I shop I’m buying drugs, so I’m buying scales |
| All I ever knew was buy and sell |
| Could try and fail, first time I flew a kite was inside a cell |
| To leave the jungle, hard to find a trail |
| Like writing braille, wrong move, you end up stepping on the lion’s tail |
| It’s all a trap, they designed it well |
| We’re counting blessings and praying to the heavens but inside of hell |
| It Was Written, It Ain’t Hard to Tell |
| I write it well, my words like the gunpowder that’s inside a shell |
| The love of money is a demonic spell |
| It’s all for sale, you’ll never make the money that can buy itself |
| I saw real niggas lie and tell |
| Inside they’re frail, in the hood they was goons now they cry and yell |
| 'Cause the judge, he denying bail |
| From prior sales; will you kneel or appeal? Only time will tell |
| Your fam' write you but they’re hiding mail |
| Will they convict you, your friends turn against you, or a client tell? |
| 'Cause the feds got 'em wired well |
| Niggas that you’re rolling with will lead 'em to you like a tire trail |
| The streets get you or you die in jail |
| This Book of Life never was a love story, it’s a grimy tale |
| These Gods lost, so why rebel? |
| We in the belly of the beast like when Jonah was inside the whale |