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And I'm grindin til I'm tired |
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Cause they said you ain'tt grindin til you tired |
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So I'm grindin with my eyes wide, looking to find |
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A way through the day, a light for the night |
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Dear Lord: you done took so many of my people |
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I'm just wondering why you haven't taken my life |
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Like what the hell am I doing right? |
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My life |
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Take me away from the hood, like a state penitentiary |
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Take me away from the hood, in a casket or a Bentley |
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Take me away, like I overdosed on cocaine |
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Or take me away, like a bullet from Kurt Cobain |
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Suicide, I'm from a Windy City, like Do or Die |
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From a block close to where Biggie was crucified |
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That was Brooklyn's Jesus, shot for no fucking reason |
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And you wonder why Kanye wears Jesus pieces? |
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Cause that's Jesus, people - and Game, he's the equal |
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Hated on so much, "Passion of Christ" need a sequel |
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Yeah, like Roc-a-Fella needed Siegel |
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Like I needed my father, but he needed a needle |
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I need some meditation so I can lead my people |
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They asking why, why did John Lennon leave The Beatles? |
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And why every hood nigga feed off evil? |
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Answer my question fore this bullet leave this Desert Eagle |
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We are not the same, I am a Martian |
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So approach my Phantom doors with caution |
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You see them 24's spinning? I earned 'em |
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And I ain't no preacher but, here's my Erick Sermon |
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So eat this black music and tell me how it taste now |
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And fuck Jesse Jackson cause it ain't about race now |
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Sometimes I think about my life, with my face down |
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Then I see my sons and put on that Kanye smile |
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Damn, I know his mama proud |
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And since you helped me sell my dream we can share my momma now |
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And like M.J.B., no more drama now |
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Living the good life, me and Common on common ground |
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I spit crack, and niggas could drive it out of town |
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Got a Chris Paul mind state, I'm never out of bounds |
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My life used to be empty like a Glock without a round |
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Now my life full, like a chopper with a thousand rounds |
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Walk through the gates of hell, see my Impala parked in front |
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With the high beams on, me and the devil sharing chronic blunts |
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Listening to the Chronic album playing backwards |
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Shooting at pictures of Don Imus for target practice |
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My mind fucked up, so I cover it with a Raider hood |
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I'm from the city that made you motherfuckers afraid of Suge |
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Made my grandmother pray for good |
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It never made her happy, but I bet that new Mercedes could |
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Ain't no bars, but niggas can't escape the hood |
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And it took so many of my niggas, that I should hate the hood |
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But it's real niggas like me that make the hood |
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Riding slow in that Phantom just the way I should |
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With the top back, in my Sox hat |
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I'm "Paid in Full", the nigga Alpo couldn't stop that |
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Even if they brought the nigga Pac back |
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I'll still keep this motherfucker cocked back |
