I got so much to say, don't know where to begin
I'm feeling lost in this world, surrounded by sin
You gotta watch for snakes and keep your eyes open
Even though I'm smoking, I'm keeping my mind focused
For this rap game, I used to be just like you
No hopes and no dreams, just like you
Posted on these hot blocks, plotting my next move
Giving a mad *, homie, with nothing to lose
Now I'm sick, reminiscing, it's funny how things change
Since elementary, walking penitentiary string chains
The hood is sick, trip out as I look back
Turn young men to killers, young ladies to hood rats
Some get locked up, go to the pen
Others get shot up, you never see them again
That's why I shout you out, sir, on these beats and my songs
Free criminal, homie, the streets is my home
Every day
I
I'm in these streets, chillin' with my friends
But it get hard, sometimes
I love these streets, and I'm a groupie
But I got to keep my pride
Haters gon' hate, still I'm makin' money
And it's good, sometimes
Been in this * since a young age, since I was twelve
Runnin' the streets, smokin' weed, in the hood that I dwell
It was poverty livin', or goin' to prison
Too young to make a decision
That's the choice I was givin'
Seen a lot, tried to be the man, but come up short
They ain't rejects, get picked up, they snitchin' in court
Everybody screamin' they gangsta, but half of them not
They take the deal in exchange for info for the cops
Why I * with none of these bitches, love for none of these snitches
Put my finger on the trigger, or my gun when it itches
Time's tickin', I gotta make a move quick
Hit the studio and hit em with some smooth *
Check how I do this, let it bless my day
Split aggression on the mic and take my stress away
I got a zone, roll a blunt and put the rest away
It keep me from tryin' to blow your whole chest away
Everyday, I'm in these streets, chillin' with my girl, smokin' weed
Sometimes, I love these streets, and I'm up like this when I'm up here
I'm not cryin', haters gon' hate, still I'm makin' money, it's good, sometimes
Every day, I'm in these streets, chillin' with my girl, smokin' weed
Every day, I'm up like this when I'm up here
I'm done slummin' these streets
Every day, I'm in these streets, chillin' with my girl, smokin' weed
Sometimes, I love these streets, and I'm up like this when I'm up here
But I got to keep my crowd
Haters gon' hate, still I'm makin' money, and it's good, sometimes
Yeah, for my people back home, just look at me now
Watching them smile with my dog, Stiles
Weekborn for a blessing, though I'm sitting, smoking weed daily
Gon' like the wind, this is for my dog
in the graveyard holding the pen My bros serving 110th of life
That's real strike, * ain't right I'm on the constant battle
Killing hocks like cow cattle But I'm still in the hood
Posted where the steel cracked Dope fiend, fish market basket filled with cans
Little homies gang bangin', puttin' in work Could dwell us till I die
Six one by nine, we're the home of the cops Circle the block, hearing a couple of shots
In my mind when this * gonna stop This * ghetto music we call hip-hop
So I lay low, do my own, my boys say so
Now let's roll homie
Every day I'm in these streets Chillin' with my bros, smokin' beer
And sometimes I love these streets
And now I'm up in this world with my crew Haters gon' hate, still I'm makin' money
And it's good sometimes
You don't know, you don't know what the hood do to me
Makin' money for me And it's all good
It's good sometimes
It's good sometimes
It's good sometimes