| This Ones for those on the dead end street
|
| Hustlin hard to make all they ends meet
|
| I hope one day I see yo benz creep
|
| Watch for the jealousy that most friends keep
|
| S-P got the Bentley
|
| All I can do is thank god cause he blessed me
|
| I used to be just like you
|
| Slangin crack rock on the avenue
|
| Packin Glocks and runnin from cops
|
| Most of my clients like they cane on the rocks
|
| Gun shots like 2 blocks away
|
| I wonda who the fuck caught a hot one today
|
| Neva mind cause I don’t wanna know
|
| I just lost two good friends in the row
|
| One second things is lookin beautiful
|
| The next second you can start off the funeral
|
| All my friends are in the dead end street
|
| Some locked up and some are R-I-P
|
| You can’t win there ain’t no way no how
|
| Clock your change and get the fuck on out
|
| We was Pyrex shakers
|
| Sunny Side money makers
|
| In Hillwood we had rocks big as now and laterz
|
| QuikStop was the store where we slung at
|
| Everybody knew me for my hundred packs
|
| Across the street was law elementry
|
| My car was so clean kids was lookin up to me
|
| They wanna be like me a tru hustla
|
| Cause they daddy drives an old gas guzzla
|
| The dope deala I ain’t tryina brag but
|
| Fuck watchin roaches tryina climb out my bath tub
|
| I was a hard head tryina be a drug lord
|
| Slow my roll nah homie what the fuck for
|
| Im in the 2 bed trailor man im dirt poor
|
| When hurricanes would kome id run next door
|
| To my homies house his name is huet hodges
|
| We gonna make out this ghetto man I promise
|
| 99 percent of all criminals are dope dealers
|
| Get busted by bullets or fuckin squeelers
|
| And the One percent that made it was pure luck
|
| But even he’ll tell that his life ain’t worth a fuck
|
| Cause in his mind he was caught a thousand times
|
| And in his mind he was shot a thousand times
|
| Without peace there can be no happiness
|
| I wear a cross around my neck like the catholics
|
| Im not sure exaclty what my religion is
|
| I just know I thank god for my little kids
|
| This is the baddest sellin drugs like sum guinnie pigs
|
| Then they arrest us after we done make it big
|
| They take our money our cars and our houses
|
| Now tell me whos really sellin the ounces
|
| And any cash that we might have hidden
|
| Goes to the system tryin to stay out of prison
|
| — repeat 2X |