I grew up on the crime side, the New York Times side Staying alive was no jive At second hands, moms bounced on old men So then we moved to Shaolin land A young youth, yo rockin the gold tooth, 'Lo goose Only way, I begin to gee 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 all Sticking up white boys in ball courts My life got no better, same damn 'Lo sweater Times is ruff and tuff like leather Figured out I went the wrong route So I got with a sick ass click and went all out Catchin keys from across seas Rollin in MPV's, every week we made forty G's Yo nigga respect mine, or anger the tech nine Ch-chick-POW! Move from the gate now
Verse Two: Inspector Deck
It's been twenty-two long hard years of still strugglin Survival got me buggin, but I'm alive on arrival I peep at the shape of the streets And stay awake to the ways of the world cause shit is deep A man with a dream with plans to make C.R.E.A.M. Which failed; I went to jail at the age of 15 A young buck sellin drugs and such who never had much Trying to get a clutch at what I could not... could not... The court played me short, now I face incarceration Pacin -- going up state's my destination Handcuffed in back of a bus, forty of us Life as a shorty shouldn't be so ruff But as the world turns I learned life is hell Living in the world no different from a cell Everyday I escape from Jakes givin chase, sellin base Smokin bones in the staircase Though I don't know why I chose to smoke sess I guess that's the time when I'm not depressed But I'm still depressed, and I ask what's it worth? Ready to give up so I seek the Old Earth Who explained working hard may help you maintain to learn to overcome the heartaches and pain We got stickup kids, corrupt cops, and crack rocks and stray shots, all on the block that stays hot Leave it up to me while I be living proof To kick the truth to the young black youth But shorty's running wild smokin sess drinkin beer And ain't trying to hear what I'm kickin in his ear Neglected, but now, but yo, it gots to be accepted That what? That life is hectic