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As I grew |
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I would see them my comrades |
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In corridors, grouped in 2's and 3's and 4's |
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Sharing a blunt, talking, cursing, fighting |
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Sometimes weeping, lost |
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And it seemed to be no way what'soever |
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To remove this cloud that stood between them and the sun |
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Between them and love |
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We all took losses, workers, the hood bosses9 to 5'ers, drug dealers, the hood worship... that could have went to the league |
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But they whole game went to the weed |
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Little girl trapped in the crib off this... |
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Some older nigger had her pinned in a... |
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She was used to them rebox |
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But he got them winds that keep spinning when the v stop |
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So when the v stop, she stop |
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He got right... her little daughter needs socks |
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And the grandmother need rock |
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Cause she a victim of these street blocks |
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The hood is a wall and it's not made of sheet rocks |
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It's made of project bricks, elevate is full of project piss |
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Incinerators is the project snitch |
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That's where you find all... checks... cause this malcolm ain't paid the rent checks |
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Damn right |
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I like the life |
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I liveWell the going it's kinda rough hey |
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Cause I went from negative to positive x 2 |
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And it's all what? |
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And it's all good |
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The first and the third like christmas in the projects |
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That we use food stamps to buy edible objects |
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Man the hood is a trap |
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While my man can't read but he good with a mac, |
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You figure it out |
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Why my aunt and my cousin had to live on a couch... came back from the storm, couldn't get in his house... my little homie buying cocaine 20 a pot |
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Not to sell in, inhale... |
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We got him... lifting the heaviest box |
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All the ladies in that lotto playing numbers, they was dreaming |
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They playing them so long, when they hit them they break even |
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Too many of us out in this world that ain't eating |
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The problems we trying to make excuse is a great reason |
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Damn right |
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I like the life |
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I liveWell the going it's kinda rough hey |
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Cause I went from negative to positive x 2 |
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And it's all what? |
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And it's all good |
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The going get mighty rough, doors keep falling shut |
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Bills you can't ignore them but you know the piling up |
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Police round us up, authorities hard to trust |
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And they ain't slowing up until you're inside the cuffs |
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Act us if the human rights don't apply to us |
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Throw us in front of the judge, load us on a bus |
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We escape the maze and the poetry that we buss |
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The rap industry, fucked, ain't nobody signing us |
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A lot of daddies ain't here to show us how to love |
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We learn it from the radio, of course it's not enough |
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And listen to the soundtrack our homies growing up |
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Boys in love with strippers and shawty want a thug |
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When you know you stuck, running short on love |
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Oven door open to warm the apartment up |
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The baby start to fuss, you know when times are rough |
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The only thing for certain, is you cannot give up |
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When... gone that kinda rough, |
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I was moving all kind of stuff |
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Grinding to find a buck, fiends never goodbye enough |
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Them bills kept piling up, the haters would try their luck |
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So at night |
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I'd have to fire while running and try to duck |
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Them... inside the truck with my name inside them cuffs... my team was fly as fuck, on roof |
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I would try to pluck |
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I ain't give a flying fuck man |
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I'm gutter |
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My daddy left my mother, no sisters no brothers |
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No inspiration, just calculating... hoping |
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I'd slip up, on a pick up... serving his moms... |
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I feel better in this studio just murdering tracks for real |
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Damn right |
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I like the life |
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I liveTimes |
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I gotta smile just to hide my tears |
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Struggle made me wise, be on my heels |
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I hussle to survive just for my kids x 2 |
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Well the going it's kinda rough hey. |
