| Being in this game ain’t no joke |
| Plenty brothas on the street straight get smoked |
| People wearin them folks |
| Its straight up bump to the grind |
| We drop and it seem like it ain’t gon stop |
| Growin up around gang bangers, feinds that’ll make you scream |
| Is on the scene, us that make ya cane |
| It was fun at first, now i pass |
| I was trippin with the game, but the game dun got to bad |
| Them boys lockin us up left and right |
| Im down with the cause, uphold the law |
| It begins at birth, from which I draw |
| And everybody wanna be the man with the quick hand |
| But the big man un-organized |
| Up in them thangs, blowin our brains |
| Close your eyes picture how you might die |
| Sippin up the ‘dro, livin in the g-e-double-t-o |
| Comin outside sometimes im strapped |
| Knowin that somebody might try to pull my brains and my life |
| Wanna take me out |
| It’s the life we live for, we kill for |
| When you get pushed to the edge of the ledge |
| And fusion all I hear is music |