Crooked neighbourhood, you either dead or in jail
They know they shouldn't touch me like the third rail
Haven't talked to momma since she put my dad in jail
We broke and that dough coming slow as a snail
We getting money, you can face the facts
‘cuz they choose colors of bloods and crips in gangs,
Kidnapping girls, killing niggas for gangs
I hate rap like kramer hate blacks
I smoke dope too hide my pain , people say my life is full of shame.
My pistols represent mebust until my rounds emptyback for the street fame
Got to the end of the tunnel
Go to jail, your'e a criminal,
6 in the morning, i’m gonna call wale
I just pray for my father in jail.
My balance be so tight rope
From blunt smoke to gun smoke
GO BACK TO WRITE A SONG ABOUT ANOTHER TOPIC !
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