I grew up on the crime side, the New York Times side
Staying alive was no jive
Had second hands, moms bounced on old men
So then we moved to Shaolin land
A young youth, yo rockin' the gold tooth, 'Lo goose
Only way, I begin to G off was drug loot
And let's start it like this son, rollin' with this one
And that one, pullin' out gats for fun
But it was just a dream for the teen, who was a fiend
Started smokin' woolas at sixteen
And running up in gates, and doing hits for high stakes
Making my way on fire escapes
No question I would speed, for cracks and weed
The combination made my eyes bleed
No question I would flow off, and try to get the dough all
Sticking up white boys in ball courts
My life got no better, same damn 'Lo sweater
Times is ruff and tuff like leather
Figured out I went the wrong route
So I got with a sick ass click and went all out
Catchin' keys from across seas
Rollin in MPV's, every week we made forty G's
Yo nigga respect mine, or here go the TEC-9
Ch-chick-POW! Move from the gate now
