I live just enough for the city so I get by
Money never changed how I felt, would I risk my
Life for a dollar, homie? Nah, I don't think so
Greed breeds jealous nikkas out here wanting info's
Catch a nikka slipping, put a bullet in his temple
Homie, it's the same rules, money talks, simple. My kinfolk
Call it what I'm living like the high life
Only if he knew what I had to do to keep my mind right
I tell you I got 20/20 hindsight
See it in the distance,hieroglyphics keep the rhymes tight
My mind like, Game recognize that
Real recognize real, still .45 strapped
Underneath the white tee, Zimmerman get shot down
Hero, it ain't nothing but a sandwich, call the cops now
fukk the police, stop running
White boys terrorize nikka' neighborhoods, gunning
Down the innocent, in the beginning it's:
"You was doing 50 in the 35"
The ending is: "You fit the description of the subject in this incident
We gon' have to take you downtown for some questioning'"
Damn, a blessing in disguise if you ask me
I was just about to hit the highway with my last key
Could it be that maybe God is intervened
With my life like he did so many times in between?
A half a block away from the crime scene
A minute earlier and that was me, think
I've been knowing Ross since he was Teflon
Same nikka now it was back then, nothing stepped on
Dopeman, dopeman yelling
Cook it 'til it's rock hard, bag it up, sell it
Aroma so loud, so loud that you can smell it
Death to them nikkas getting caught go and telling
