I grew up on the crime side, the New York Times side Staying alive was no jive Had second hands, moms bounced on old man So then we moved to Shaolin land A young youth, yo rockin the gold tooth, 'Lo goose Only way, I begin to G' off was drug loot And let's start it like this son, rollin with this one And that one, pullin out gats for fun But it was just a dream for the teen, who was a fiend Started smokin woolies at sixteen And running up in gates, and doing hits for high stakes Making my way on fire escapes No question I would speed, for cracks and weed The combination made my eyes bleed No question I would flow off, and try to get the dough off Sticking up white boys in ball courts My life got no better, same damn 'Lo sweater Times is rough and tough like leather Figured out I went the wrong route So I got with a sick tight clique and went all out Catchin keys from across seas Rollin in MPV's, every week we made forty G's Yo brothas respect mine, or anger the tech nine Ch-POW! Move from the gate now