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Yo mega man, what's the deal son? |
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Yo son, what's up? |
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Yo man, I'm just sittin' here zonin' out, thinkin' about how life is |
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Yo, life's general for us, you know? |
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How we livin' out here, you know? |
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Things we going through man, why we gotta go through this life? |
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You know, life is an interlude to death, son |
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You ever thought about that? |
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The saga begins, I'm a reflection of the drama within |
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The ghetto I live in, niggas moms on crack, pops just disappeared |
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The first time you get locked up, who really cares? |
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I see a little snotty nosed with his sneakers on backwards |
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Sleepin' on a mattress when I go to make a sale |
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At times I wonder, are we goin' straight to hell? |
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Or does God realize we're tryin' to make it as well |
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My sleep is interrupted by food on the stove |
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Not gun shots, we're immune to those |
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Some of my friends first bids are two to fours |
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Others are on the run with huge rewards |
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Mothers watch son's walk through the door |
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For the last time till they go view at the morgue |
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Life is deep, we all just tryin' to eat |
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Rap's a mental narcotic, I supply the streets |
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Look at my life, you see white coke and black roses |
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And tears shed for passed soldiers |
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We all walkin' the path chosen |
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From the cradle till the casket's lowered |
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I still got the black ski mask to throw on |
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But I can get richer off the tracks I flow on |
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I'd be lyin' if I said I wasn't hustlin' no more |
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Look at my life |
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Life ain't fair, shorty pregnant with nowhere to live |
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Sleepin' in a crackhouse 'cause she don't got no relatives |
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Her friends wanna drink brew and beef about who's sale it is |
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Now she's gettin' hungry, she smells the marijuana scent |
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I paint a picture vividly as if picasso's spirit entered me |
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Starin' at the heavens, secluded in a tinted jeep |
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I'm sick of hearin' eulogies, I realize my nigga blue is a reminder |
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Of my past like greek ruins yet his seek keeps bloomin' |
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Uneffected by police intrusions |
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Or street illusions we were consumed with |
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I've even grown away from people I grew with |
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I mean we cool, but I don't need to bullshit |
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My mood could switch easily from smooth to ruthless |
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We ain't built the same so mind games are useless |
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Times change, like the climate I change |
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Check the forecast, I reign |
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Look at my life, you see white coke and black roses |
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And tears shed for passed soldiers |
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We all walkin' the path chosen |
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From the cradle till the casket's lowered |
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I still got the black ski mask to throw on |
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But I can get richer off the tracks I flow on |
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I'd be lyin' if I said I wasn't hustlin' no more |
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Look at my life |
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Live niggas I rep for, deceased, I pour moet for |
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Those incarcerated, my heart is with y'all |
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I know at times it gets hard behind penetentiary bars |
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Then once free you realize you're mentally scarred |
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If not physically, if subjected to correctional facilities |
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Prepare for your future to the best of your ability |
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Prosper, otherwise you've been conquered |
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Blowin' up her mobile phone so she can send you a box |
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Son, I sit inside my residence |
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And thank God I'm blessed with this poetical gift evident in every |
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Ghetto like graffiti and crack sales |
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And cabs that won't stop for black males |
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Undercovers givin' younger brothers bad stares |
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Fours clap, dogs crap in the grass here |
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You love to hear the story son, the saga began here |
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MC's are fictitious yet there's actual facts here |
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Like the Bible said 'Jesus had napped hair' |
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Look at my life, you see white coke and black roses |
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And tears shed for passed soldiers |
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We all walkin' the path chosen |
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From the cradle till the casket's lowered |
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I still got the black ski mask to throw on |
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But I can get richer off the tracks I flow on |
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I'd be lyin' if I said I wasn't hustlin' no more |
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Look at my life |
