| Sittin in hell’s den, watchin murder like a show on
|
| Shot him in cold blood like he was beaten with a slow arm
|
| He ain’t really deserved it but that’s life and that must go on
|
| Prayin we get it right, knowin somehow that we gon go wrong
|
| It ain’t no point of being real when everybody jokin
|
| Niggas hit the corner with cheese, man everybody’s broken
|
| Probably to numb away the pain from a deeper wound
|
| Sick of singing blues so they moved into a deeper tune
|
| 15 for the striped, he ain’t fightin shit
|
| He bout that firework, self-employed, how he like this shit
|
| Realizing if he get caught he gon be tied and hit
|
| Plus he told that DA â «fuck a statement», he ain’t writin shit
|
| Look nigga nuts, hangin like elephant tighters
|
| Devil got the key and I bet he just waitin to ignite us
|
| It’s all the same, where I’m from tell em it’s west up
|
| But niggas lose they life for disrespect niggas so this luck
|
| I say he used to be the man now he begging for a gram
|
| 2 $ ass nigga, can’t lend a helping hand
|
| Yea it used to be good, he had to work for the jug
|
| He turned his back on his niggas and went and stayed on the hood
|
| That statement he can’t take back, regret that he made that
|
| Sat down in trial and that recorder tape, they played that
|
| Eye contact now but I used to look up to him
|
| I used to wanna be just like him, now I just inspite him
|
| Mission ain’t condoned even to my closest kin
|
| I’m getting money now and I was getting money then
|
| She still poppin off, ain’t nothing born in the hood
|
| Sin City money man, I’m whipping foreigns through the hood
|
| Times done changed, BG’s now OG’s
|
| Used to be 25, damn that 44 the key
|
| Better out look at life, better know how to cook the white
|
| Soft to the heart, hard niggas turning soft
|
| Still
|
| My lil nigga lost his twin and I know he hurt
|
| Cast a dark cloud over the old west
|
| Packers wouldn’t even let him out to go and pay his respect
|
| Last month I’ve seen a good nigga get put to rest
|
| Tryna do my best to hold back the tears
|
| Cus if you livin up in Oakland you livin in fear
|
| Nigga we break the homicide record every year
|
| I don’t know what you lookin for but love don’t live here
|
| It’s crack babies sellin crack around here
|
| Them lil niggas is strapped so hear me loud and clear
|
| Ain’t nothing but dope fiends, bums and ridarum
|
| You ain’t got a gun, better run when them niggas come
|
| Pray to God I wake up every morning, get to see the sun
|
| My niggas is dyin, chasin money by the tons
|
| I’m tryna smoke away the pain but I’m killin my lungs
|
| My brother gone now so me to teach his son |