could have end my life But I'm here looking at you Never thought that I'd be here I'm the type that don't give a damn about rules I was supposed to survive on the streets
's that? Track Boy beats like a freak, work a king on the block I'm 17, name ain't the same on the block And beat and knock the nigger out his frame on
Lord, tryna hustle must be something That was Heaven sent A lot of rent wouldn't be paid without this trade That we call hustlin' This goes out to the cats on
there witcha, too. She hot, man. Where y'all from, you from Detroit? Heard that man, yo, welcome to the South dawg. Them, yo, man them fronts, ain't hittin' on
fake ass closin' up bank accounts Spittin' straight pimp game from the Oakland town It's been done before and I do it again You break your mama, your sista and all your friends $hort dog's on
the marching band I turned in my drum and I started to rap Now beats I make, make my bank so fat It's Too $hort, on the mic tonight Pennsylvania, can
hurt Can't work, same dirt I thought I had wiped off The same jerk that used to jerk Paul now he's my boss Lonely if I lost, my light on the pathway
a day and I drive a coup on danas Cruising through the alley bumping on "Hi" to players Yo, you can say what you want but I was taught on the streets
s depth, Wanna take it to the next step, I'm a street-sweeper, get your end's swept, Feds dressed in their plain clothes on my set rest, The next step
from the birdie 'Cause when he whistled he was pushin' up that milk thistle, get it? These stupid niggaz they ain't playin' for keeps These niggaz playin' for cheaps, they disobeyin' the streets
, hands i mean lands, lands with his f***** butt, down legs and cluck, look at the time, the clock, don't blame me, i'm slim, blame it on him, 50 rent
live off of them government checks So we take the street, we gotta beat And make 'em move to the beat Your gun finger in the air for prisoners on lock
' Hey I'm not complainin' 'cause I really need the work Hittin' up my buddy's got me feelin' like a jerk Hundred dollar car note, two hundred rent I get a check on
d-ck in every chick in every city that he went to Went hard like the rent do Till he met the wrong bitch, man just came home ex-convict And he stay on
time would be my last I don?t trust my own n-ggas now my mind racing fast got my foot up on the gas, got a hundred on the dash if the police run up on
time would be my last I don't trust my own niggas now my mind racing fast got my foot up on the gas, got a hundred on the dash if the police run up on
Go Nut Up Like A Ho Tell On Yo Folk Give'em A Blueprint On Every Nigga In Yo Click All Dem Ride-Or-Die Niggas Who Helped You Pay Yo Rent If So Then You
because that ass got rock steady Down the line, far from kind Whip in behind, and still packing nothing but a nine Back on the block, out on the streets