(Verse 1 – Scarface)
I am ghetto, boy, chilling
Represent for the ni**as in the hood and how they living
Heavy metal concealing
Hustling til you touch a 9 to 5 of drug dealing
It don’t matter how I get it, I got it, f**k feelings
I don’t have none, I’m bout my paper, ni**a, ask em
Don’t get confused on how the cash come
Never, by any means necessary better
Get up off your ass and get my money fore I stretch yah
Out in front your doorstep, when I brandish this .45th
You can make arrangements, you a dead man, a ghost
See I come from them cuts for real
Much long before this rap came, f**k the deal
I survived the game of life, ni**a, f**k some skills
Crossing me, get in the way, this pu**y must get killed
I’m alive, he came, he bust til he left
I would have made for sure I was dead and f**k yourself
Yeah, cause now I’m at his ass in a vengeance
Blood in, blood out from the beginning to the ending
Real s**t being spit, know your limits
It’s best you mind your mothaf**king business
If you ain’t in it
(Chorus)
So hard in these streets
Gotta pack a pistol plus talk to God in these streets
Go to church, Sunday, Monday, selling raw in these streets
Never took it home though, I left it all in these streets
Gotta do what I gotta do
I ain’t promoting no eviction notice on the door
F**k it, I had to go for broke
Do what I gotta do
Hustle til I see the dirt
Risking 25 years just to see another verse
(Verse 2 – Rick Ross)
I was all alone, car full of ni**as
How’d I get here? Car full of hittas
I was rolling weed, they was snorting blow
Such a cool breeze, heart so cold
Step up to the plate, where your money at?
Bobby Brown on cake with a hundred packs
New editions, Lisa Lisa
We were secret lovers, had to get a beeper
My Atlantic star, not a Notre Dame
Not a student loan, tried to motivate
Continental, my Bentley, this s**t should be illegal
Selassie eye in the ghost, thousand bales of that diesel
Lord, go toe to toe with any pu**y boy
F**k, one time for facing all the Boobie boys
26 inch plates on a 68
Where I’m from a half a key’ll set a ni**a straight
I just wanna make the car notes
Let mama make the pot roast
You should meet me at the car wash
Washing all 8, that’s inshallah
(Repeat Chorus)
(Verse 3 – Nas)
Speaking for those squeaking in them cell blocks reading
To blacks, whites and Puerto Ricans
Brothers with those ankle bracelets, impatient for their releasing
To make it back to the block, the hatred, the priest hit
Time sure flies, look how many years went by
My young ni**as already need hair dye
Alcoholic faces, women bad as a mug
Getting fat as f**k
Fried food be adding up, the system thrives off its victims
They ask how this economic collapse
Can affect people all over the map
Tea party for tax reenactment is whack
The past the past, yo, to my vatos out in the East Los
Nietas on the east coast, shouts to Puerto Rico
Dominican Republic people, rep I
Brown and black, we must get it together
The prison industrial complex a f**king set up
The Aztec, almac, African settled on this land from the get up
I changed my aim, who I’m gon wet up
When violence is resorted, knowledge is distorted
Unless it’s payback for brutality
I’m more or less with that, get back
(Repeat Chorus)
