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(feat. Lae-D Trigga, Bless) |
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Yeah... ain't nuttin sweet in these streets... |
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Everyday it's a never-ending saga... |
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[Chorus x2: Guru] |
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It's a never-ending saga, the drama, the block's hotter than lava |
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See the stress in the eyes of my mama |
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She don't wanna hear about me gettin put in a cage |
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Still I keep so much heat, have you shook and amazed |
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[Guru] |
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It's like this everyday hustle got me stifled |
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It's like all I think about is cocking pistols and rifles |
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All I do all day is smoke weed and drink |
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Look at my icey grill in the mirror and then I spit in the sink |
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Got to flip more dough, got to pull another heist |
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May not have the biggest rep, but you could say this brother's nice |
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Twice the cops came by my crib, askin questions |
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About some shit that happened, that nobody wants to mention |
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I'd rather take my own life then live as a snitch |
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I pray to God but sometimes, he don't grant my wish |
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I wanna get out of here, and lace my chick with some Prada gear |
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Push a fat whip and own a big house somewhere |
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I can't sleep, I'm thinkin about my next caper |
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I gotta figure out a way that I can make the best paper |
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I got a son, and yo I'm still mad young |
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Everyday I'm on the Ave. with my niggaz totin mad guns |
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[Lae-D Trigga] |
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Everyday's a different struggle, different sets and tecs |
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Tryna make my dollars double, so who's next to flex |
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Hollow points wet like sets, got the Ill-X connect |
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Niggaz be hatin when you takin, tryna hold ya breath |
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They wanna mold ya death and lay you where the seas rest |
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For a chain and ya watch, you bound to get yourself popped |
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Have ya brains lookin "Sloppy" like "Joe" |
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Runnin and breathin like whoa |
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This game the illest if ya know when to fold |
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Dramatic incidence, keep the witnesses, bickerin |
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Chickens is sickenin, fuckin cats that own businesses |
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Voices and visions leave a stain in my mind |
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So I explain it in rhymes |
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Bullets and slums keep this dame in her prime |
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Undercovers wanna lock me up, niggaz wanna knock me up |
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Spend my cheddar like they got me stuck |
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I change ya frame from weak to dust, after I heat ya up |
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Automatics, skee that meat and trucks |
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Livin is crazy if you got no luck, worse if you got no bucks |
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You gotta take, all you can or get fucked |
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You gotta space all ya mans and get buck |
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The hood you live in is tough |
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Feels like the whole damn world gone corrupt |
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That's why I drink the veins, anything to ease the fuckin pain |
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Let it reign in my heart on this dirt stain, it hurt mayne |
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[Guru] Ghetto dreams... callin mad schemes... that's right |
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[Chorus x2] |
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[Bless] |
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I heard life was a test, learned life was a mess |
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Ya blaze cess, escape stress from one day to the next |
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Right or left, in this maze that ends in death |
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I'm alive but need rest, progress in three steps |
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With every step or breath, I seem to digest so much shit |
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To get off my chest, born and restless |
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I, sit at my desk, 9 to 5 at best |
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The rest collect checks to waste on lotto bets |
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Forty bottles wet and cigarettes, adress to ad-ress |
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Places, faces with sadness, cats depressed |
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Through all the madness, I managed |
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To be blessed with a sense to know dough don't measure success |
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Cuz even though money is power, it ain't always respect |
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Live my life with no regrets, all these heads know the deal |
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I re-fuse to move, unless I'm doin what I feel |
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The true meaning of real, not the gat that you conceal |
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Cracks ya sell, bitches ya mack, and caps ya peel |
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Try to match my skill, attack ya grill, perhaps I will |
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Sit back and chill, you shoulda known that I'm ill... |
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[Chorus x2] |
