Lyrics

everyday somebody gets killed, what's the deal it's 1995, and a nigga wanna live the type of life that people dream, i want things, a crib, a car, while living the life of a king, i know i take for granted at times for what i got, still hustlin' and bustlin', and now and then i stand a pop or two to come up, a steady battle through the days, mamma think i'm wrong because i wanna get paid, the system ain't given t-mo a chance, 22 on the loose and black, trying to get the noose a little slack around my neck, they making it hard for a brother to cope, it's still illegal to smoke cess cause they can't tax, i'm ready to go up shit until they give my freedom back. service to what, who, damn, you got caught sought away out, the trait is getting full, calling up your pull, but pull ain't got it. i fell cold inside like, a man sleeping on pavement, under the bridge of i-20 west, and stress on the face of the man, cussing out the atmosphere with nobody close enough to hear, and who dat miss they fee, cuz all they personal shit, is sitting on the front lawn of apple tree, and for those who ain't got take, before the owner shows back up with the u-haul, police you call, but wasn't no marshall there to watch your stuff, see i stand tall to this world, like a kid walking rapping his rhymes to himself, a book on a shelf of many, mc's seen them come and go, style free with cool breeze, til it's thick like dat fog, stacking away my extra for a engine for tha hog, dropping a point from the east, from a location out tha trees, 360 degrees. born into these crooked ways, i never even ask to come so now, i'm living in the days, i struggle and fight to stay alive, hoping that one day i'd earn the chance to die, pallbearer to this one, pallbearer to that one, can't seem to get a grip 'cause, my palms is sweatin'. niggas ain't getting no where fast but, closer to the hearse, why sunbeam burst off baskets nearly blinding me, almost dropped ma end of the casket, woodgrain and the only thang on my brain, is where this coward hang, south west atlanta fountain lane, forgot the batch niggah got thirty years, lord forgive me and my foes i know, revenge is best served when cold by those, who feel no guilt, god don't care whether you got a spade or not, ain't no turning in your playing hand you was dealt, better tighten up your belt man, always go with, the first instinct because, i don't make the rules, oooh, you know how it is in these streets, victims rarely get a chance to think twice, as he laid in the final resting place, he had such a peaceful expression in his face, my visions blurry from crying, but it ain't hard to see that, at any time it coulda been me, it's about 90 degrees outside, but yet it felt like i'm froze, the ceremonies come to a close, i toss a rose but just can't seem to walk away yet, damn i done fucked around and got upset, but it ain't nothing we can do, it's bigger than me and you, one day our time coming too, so ain't no use in being sad, leaving here was probably the best gift he ever had, we should be glad, maybe his life was something, that he had to give to show me, that i need to be responsible about how i live, i won't complain about my pain, but i just ain't gone let my niggas die in vain, so bean i'm gone make it for you, the cycle that these young black men keep goin through, i'm gone break it for you, and start takin care of me, and me consist of all my friends and my family, from now on, until i'm gone. born into these crooked ways, i never even ask to come so now, i'm living in the days, i struggle and fight to stay alive, hoping that one day i'd earn the chance to die, pallbearer to this one, pallbearer to that one, can't seem to get a grip 'cause, my palms is sweatin'.

Song details

Artist: goodie mob