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[Intro: James Fauntleroy] |
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Thousand lives ago |
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We were young and we didn't know |
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We were trading our crowns for our souls |
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Made the sacrifice |
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Headed back to the light |
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But be careful don't drown in the gold |
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I know it glows but it's cold |
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[Sample] |
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I'm from the other side of town |
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Out of bounds |
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To anybody who don't live around |
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I never learned to share or how to care |
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I never had no teachings about being fair |
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[Verse 1: Common] |
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Have you ever heard of Black Stone around Black Stones? |
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And Four Corner Hustlers, Vice Lords, Stony Island on Aces |
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The concrete matrix, street organizations |
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They gave violations, hood public relations |
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It was the basics to get big faces |
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Stay away from cases, bad broads, good graces |
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The hustles was the taste makers and trend setters |
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They the ones that fed us hopin' that the feds don't get us |
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The era of Reagan, the terror of Bush |
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Crack babies, momma's a push, we were the products of Bush |
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I'm wi*****n' for a Samurai Suzuki and a little Gucci |
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A bad ho to |
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do me, you heard of flukey? |
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Stokes it was folks and coke and **** |
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Fiends choked off of smoke, herringbones and rope |
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Rare jewels of a generation |
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Diamonds, blinding us so real *****t we facin' |
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Forties wasted on seats, Dion makin' the beats |
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When they air it out on at the parties we escapin' the heat |
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I could break it down like whatever you need |
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He squinted his face and rolled the ***** |
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[Interlude] |
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You know they don't see sometimes |
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That in the neighborhood |
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It's the exact same thing |
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It's the same thing over and over again |
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Feel me? |
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[Verse 2: Lil Herb] |
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Have you ever heard of no limit, three hundred, six hundred? |
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Folly boy, O block, eastside |
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Where it ain't no conversation they just let them heats ride |
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Can't nobody stop the violence, why my city keep lyin'? |
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*****s throw up peace signs but everybody keep dying |
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Used to post up on that strip, I look like a street sign |
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I've been out there three days and I got shot at three times |
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Felt like every bullet hit me when they flew out each nine |
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I be happy when I wake up and I have a free mind |
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I know haters wanna clap me up, watch the morgue grab me up |
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But they can catch me later, I been cool, chasin' paper |
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Where I come from ain't no hope if you was claimin' that was major |
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Small crib, big fam, mom was workin', grammy raised us |
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No food in the refrigerator, I was bangin', pullin' capers, that's real *****t |
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Same *****s from day one boy, yeah I'm still with |
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Better watch out for that jump shot cause they will hit |
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Homie take your shorty lunchbox, and won't feel *****t |
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I came from a place where it's basic but you won't make it |
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Feds buildin' cases, judges who racist and full of hatred I mean |
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You ain't never seen the *****t that I seen |
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[Outro] |
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Coming inbound |
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Forty six minutes from 355 |
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Jim Bryant's twenty eight out, thirty two in |
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Lake Shore Drive's heavy south |
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North Avenue to Chicago, jammed north through Grant Park |
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Tri State heavy south |
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to the Bensenville Bridge and St. Charles to the Stevenson Ramp |
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Get traffic and weather together on the 8's every ten minutes on News Radio, 780 and 105.9 FM |
