| Uh, y’all remember?, nahmean?
|
| Everythin', strugglin', comin' up
|
| That’s why I’m writin' to myself right now
|
| Gotta make this come up, man
|
| Get that dough, do these shows
|
| Up late in studios
|
| Tell all these groupies no
|
| Not right now, gotta write down
|
| My life on paper, again
|
| Spend the night with gangsters
|
| Spend the night with strangers
|
| Feel the slice from a razor
|
| In my hood, niggas fight 'til they make up
|
| Shoot dice 'til they blaze up
|
| Po-nine come and chase us
|
| Through the streets, feel the slice on our faces
|
| So many nights in the cages
|
| So many fights, outrageous
|
| Niggas pullin' out gauges
|
| Bullets flyin' outrageous
|
| Better run, better duck, hit the pavement
|
| I’m outta luck, backed up by my payments
|
| Patience, runnin' out
|
| I’m all alone, with the gum in my mouth
|
| Pacin', back and forth
|
| I’m on the phone with my son and my spouse, thinkin'
|
| Of good times, jot down hood rhymes
|
| From the tour-bus to the corners, it’s torture
|
| Feels like I’m in danger
|
| Paranoid, slip one up in the chamber
|
| Had the gun in The Rain
|
| Cuz’of the pain, I’m a thug, do you blame us?
|
| I came up through the gang stuff
|
| On the train with the chain tucked
|
| Rings and a King Tut'
|
| Three-piece suits and a clean cut
|
| On a job search, better not get robbed first
|
| Situation gets a lot worse
|
| Percipitation is hard work
|
| Lost youths, no-one to talk to
|
| Sixteen-years old just jumped off the roof head first
|
| Could be the network
|
| Ghetto expert, devil network
|
| Another peer is dead in the dirt
|
| Another tear that I shed on my shirt
|
| Another beer that’s spread on the earth
|
| Another year that I’m led by a hearse
|
| Come here I know that it hurts, and
|
| My nigga I know thieves that grow trees
|
| For the fours, for the dope, for the smoke and the four ki’s
|
| Know niggas that throw ki’s
|
| On the boat, with the dope, with the coke and the trophies
|
| Speed it up like ho please
|
| Big ballers, mo' cheese
|
| Goatees, 40 ounce of the OEs
|
| For the tons, to the ki’s, to the pounds to the Oz’s
|
| Bag it up for the lo-fi's
|
| Street hustlers toke weed, both Gs
|
| One time for the OGs, flip birds in OTs, dro' breeze
|
| Hot time for the low-cs
|
| Invest the proceeds, no peace
|
| Roll niggas in the opi’s, for the scope, the soap
|
| The slope and the roast these
|
| Know bitches who take shit for the sake
|
| For the wake, for the snake, for the cake glist'
|
| Know bitches that make wits
|
| For the sake, the grape, the rape and the fake tits
|
| Speed it up 'fo the jake hits
|
| No time for baked bits
|
| Make hits, write down where the lake sits
|
| From the blocks, take trips to the lines, to the flake glist'
|
| Ride around in the '86
|
| Why bredren hate tricks, lay chicks
|
| One time for the state picks, one time for eight bricks, great clicks
|
| Frontline for the state picks, all in my wavemix, stay fixed
|
| Main Flo gotta escape quick
|
| From the gate to the plate to the date to the matrix |