| This is a story
|
| Bout my lil homie joey
|
| So joey started selling more drugs
|
| Than my older homies
|
| Muthafuckers started hatin' quick
|
| Being on the lamest shit
|
| All because joey
|
| Owned the latest shit
|
| A young kid
|
| Who found drug distribution
|
| Feeling all alone
|
| While his older sister’s prostitutin'
|
| You’re beautiful
|
| But i hate to say it
|
| Your beauty’s ruined
|
| I blame the struggle
|
| And all the bullshit
|
| That made you do it
|
| No matter what
|
| I love my sister though
|
| And g i promise
|
| I’m a change your life
|
| Once i flip a brick of coke
|
| But for now
|
| I’m a just chill
|
| And flip some dough
|
| And smoke weed
|
| And dark liquor, i sip it slow
|
| Trying to forget
|
| My mother put us in foster homes
|
| In deep depression
|
| It made me feel
|
| Like i lost my soul
|
| I got recruited to a gang
|
| And now i’m trippin' hard
|
| No father figure
|
| His father is up in a prison yard
|
| I wonder why my family is so dysfunctional
|
| So hard to function
|
| Hustlin' hard has been my arsenal
|
| Often been broken hearted
|
| By women who look to bombest
|
| Fuck it he don’t look back
|
| When he tell these bitches
|
| He’s honest
|
| But always give em respect
|
| Keep in mind
|
| It’s somebody’s daughter
|
| He learned his lesson
|
| From different women who call em
|
| Some they go to school
|
| And some they started strippin'
|
| Drug dealin' was good
|
| And of course he started trickin'
|
| Buying women
|
| Designer purses & shoes
|
| Different girls to choose
|
| What up to jasmine at deja vu
|
| Ambitions of a woman with dreams right
|
| Started with a gift
|
| Now she fucking her team right
|
| (told you)
|
| Like fuck it we live the g life
|
| In slow motion
|
| As we hit the weed pipe
|
| Stayed focused on bad women
|
| And shady men
|
| He should’ve known
|
| From that one txt
|
| At 3 a. |
| m
|
| A naked picture from jasmine
|
| Like what up?
|
| Dot dot l-o-l
|
| Come & pick me up
|
| So joey’s now driving
|
| Ghetto birds & sirens
|
| Mobbin' through south central
|
| Los angeles violence
|
| On figueroa & 82nd
|
| He made a left
|
| He put his music down
|
| Suddenly another txt
|
| Like hold up give me a sec
|
| He replied with
|
| I’m in that grey lex
|
| And now he’s looking through his rearview
|
| He got that feeling
|
| Like when somebody is gettin' near you
|
| A black truck pulls up
|
| The driver covered his face
|
| Started waving a gun
|
| And said what up muthafucka
|
| Where the fuck you from?
|
| Pop pop pop
|
| She was settin' him up
|
| Never trust a beautiful woman
|
| They’ll be quick to have muthafuckas come get you
|
| R.i.p. |
| to my homies, dead & gone
|
| All the real hustlers in the streets, hell yeah |