| Ayo, on this joint right here man we bout to just break it down to you | 
| Man just the transition to becoming. | 
| a man (This from the heart) | 
| That some of yall gone have to go through man everybody on the sound | 
| Of my voice (This from the soul) | 
| Everything gone be cool man, From Boys to Men | 
| No one to doubt me, I’m not here lonely | 
| Childhood secrets still wid my homies | 
| I recall days when I blazed up on the hill | 
| Not knowin' wud the future would hold, just kept it real | 
| We ridin' on the 'Lac with the boys to other schools | 
| We catch 'em at dey football games and act a fool | 
| And everybody know my name, it’s Michael Troy | 
| We made all them bullies respect Falcon Boy | 
| I got my folks worried, I’m suspended everyday | 
| Sometimes I ain’t tell 'em and caught the train to the A | 
| The FirePoint Station, Supreme location | 
| I’m only 15, tho at the lil' scene | 
| No one to pry me, I’m all alone | 
| No one to cry on | 
| He’d shelter from the rain. | 
| to ease the pain | 
| Changing from boys to men | 
| I’ve done seen stabbings, i’ve done seen shootings | 
| I’ve done seen a robbery, i’ve done seen two | 
| But I ain’t even 15, so when i turn 16 | 
| Im’ma get dat chrome thing wid da beam | 
| My team was da wreckin' crew, like juice | 
| The type of niggas on our side do, who was the truth | 
| I bet them killaz on his side respect game | 
| That other nigga from the southside, was lame | 
| My name is Stone, Charlestown to the bone | 
| Lil' Wayne and Scooby, we rocking MCM and Gucci | 
| I’m nine years old, that nigga let me touch a Uzi | 
| I wanted to kill, just like i saw up in the movie | 
| No wonder one of my friend shot himself in his head | 
| Playin' wid the gun from under his mothers bed | 
| Don’t wanna call his name too tough, we’ll call him Fred | 
| We watch my nigga while he bled (when we was young) | 
| Lord knows we be tryin hard, God watching over us | 
| Mama told me «baby dun be goin to school cuttin up» | 
| Did I listen, hell naw, listen let me tell ya’ll | 
| Streets transform mamas only into eight-ball | 
| Errywhere I go, niggaz know I speak that poetry | 
| See my +Chilouette+ like I’m +Alfred Hitchcock+ and they know its me | 
| Bottom line met a lot of niggaz on the grind | 
| Getting them dimes | 
| Murder they ass, escape the scene like I committed the crime | 
| A friend of mine, don’t rap he doing illegal business | 
| 18-Wheeler, Fed, X, bricks, did wid killaz | 
| He smoke and dipped’em drunk with Crys and get to beating his bitches | 
| Them bitches down though, come straight back after they get thru strippen | 
| I’m outta' town, next to the church see his lil' brotha cryin | 
| Told me his brotha killed himself, I said nigga you lyin | 
| He put the gun to his mouth and blew his brain out | 
| He couldn’t handle this goddamn shit that we sang 'bout |