| Uh, LA, uh huh, Chi Town, Philadelphia, PA
|
| Hey now, uh, LA, yeah, Chi Town, Philadelphia, PA
|
| Listen, pick any city, the South side, the outside
|
| It isn’t pretty, the tots cryin' and shots fired
|
| Protection there be the lopsided, cop kind
|
| You see the scene of a crime like every stop sign
|
| My section of twenty-one pound is downtown
|
| They walkin' 'round wit' the guns out, it’s wild how
|
| The youngings dumb proud, followin' the crowd now
|
| Leading the blind with they minds up in the Soundcloud
|
| Ain’t a lotta sunshine when you on a frontline
|
| Listenin' to that ghetto drumline, duckin' one-time
|
| Thinkin' how the Devil doesn’t tire, even sometimes
|
| Wonderin' how the fuck could one’s rhyme be this unkind
|
| Everybody cold to me, seeming through this bullshit
|
| The only thing that sold to me bein' told, we should hold on
|
| Gettin' old to me I’m about to buckle
|
| 'Cause holdin' tight got my hands fully white-knuckled
|
| And to be honest, tomorrow is not promised
|
| Whether you on the streets of Chicago or Botswana
|
| You gotta be rock solid, not to be outsmarted
|
| The rise from rock-bottom to one of the top scholars
|
| I never ask what’s the secret of success
|
| With a target on your back and a scarlet on your chest
|
| Listen, just get it, not a minute to rest
|
| This is not a test, settle for the best, nothin' less, dig it
|
| Pick any city, the South side, the drought side
|
| Where E-M-S has arrived, well, it’s about time
|
| People who just get they tops fried get outlined
|
| Minutes and seconds go clockwise but not mine
|
| Where I’m from it’s a war scene
|
| Where more fiends scream for Morphines, Zoloft and Thorazine
|
| We don’t subscribe to the grand scheme
|
| The plans seems to be keepin' us all sick, sellin' them vaccines
|
| Ain’t a lot of fun time when your only son dyin'
|
| And the world’s comin' untied from the inside
|
| That’s between affection and depression, it’s a thin line
|
| Stress and pressure here is multiplied ten times
|
| Everything is blurred to me, lessons deferred for me
|
| Fam said it’s been a long term since they heard from me
|
| My lil' homie never made it out of surgery
|
| Sometimes I feel like South Philly tryna murder me
|
| First, everybody’s upset 'cause you died
|
| They like, «Wait a minute, man
|
| I ain’t the ones who’s dead, he’s the one that’s brown bread»
|
| Hah, so in comes the second lie, ya dig? |