| No diploma, the corner was my high school
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| Born on the curb something that the ghetto made
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| Jump off the coast selling dope in the 7th grade
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| Where I’m from you wasn’t shit if you wasn’t paid
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| Watched the cocaine spread like AIDS
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| Hustlers trying to survive the task force raids
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| Playing with AKs trying to get out the projects
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| Nigga get outta line they pop him like some latex
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| Practice counting money like a nigga practice safe sex
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| Ever since I was introduced to ice cream
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| Always kept a choppa or connect in the triple-beam
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| Pulling all nighters I never was into chasing dreams
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| Hit a nigga up like the did my little cousin R
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| Captain of the cream cheese, grinding under the full moon
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| These niggas snitching that’s why they faker than cartoons
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| I put them in the air like a fucking helium balloon
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| The whips is new, the banger is used
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| Keep stacking on them I don’t catch a D-boy blues
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| Keep dumping on they ass till the clips is gone
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| Hold down my set nigga rep my home
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| Why the first of the month my favorite time of the year?
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| Sitting on the fiend porch till the mail get here
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| I hustle hard, you bitch niggas pathetic
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| Mad cause I’m collecting ten-thousand in credit sale
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| I’m just like Gregory I get it like my p
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| For years I wasn’t happy growing up in the projects
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| Nigga my money used to be little like an insect
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| I turned into a Racist only cause I love this green
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| Graduated from digitals no more triple-beams
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| Those were the finer things that came from
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| You don’t now my lifestyle then fuck you nigga sue me then
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| You wanna fuck with the game we’ll chop you with it
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| Go against the flame motherfucker you will never win
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| R.I.P Baby Chains, R.I.P Lil' Twin
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| Ima keep it stacking till I see hopefully yall again
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| Throw your asses back in as soon as you get out the pen
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| I’ve seen em go, selling grams to collecting cans
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| I just pray to God that he help me be a better man
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| Cause when it come to the game nigga I overstand
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| Only thing on my mind be them rubber bands
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| Learn how to cook grams, coke taste like candy yams
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| Little nigga moving with a 30
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| Told the man he could front the whole brick
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| If worse come to worse nigga I ain’t bringing back shit
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| This is for a broke bitch, class, and sensation
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| I could show you how to stack money in a depression
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| Live Wire Records ain’t going through a recession
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| Counting my blessings before I hit the street tonight
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| Hoping I don’t ever end up on a crack pipe
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| Stuck in the game nigga still selling all white
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| Cypress Village where I learned the whips soft
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| And 10th Street niggas where I got it all off |
Song information On this page you can read the lyrics of the song D-Boy Blues 2010 , by - J. Stalin. Song from the album Prenuptial Agreement, in the genre Иностранный рэп и хип-хоп