You love to hear the story, again and again
about these young brothers from the city of wind.
Like juice and gin in the city we blend
amongst the hustle, titties and skin, fifties and rims.
Y'all know the Spreewells
and trucks that's detailed,
heartless females that wanna ride in 'em
felt the southside venom with raw hides and denim,
bent minds collide with them.
A system that tries victims, we livin' in.
My man in the fast lane pivotin',
on the block ******* sellin' like eminem,
on the block get jump off like Kim 'n 'em,
on the block is how you can feel it in your skin, 'n, 'n,
Shorties get the game with no instructions of asemblin',
odds right it seems like the fight is dim in him.
Call my man cuzin like I'm kin to him,
he tryin' to stay straight, the streets is bendin' him.
It's all good in the hood like rats and gyms,
throwbacks and tims, blacks and rims.
Whether on ball courts,
attires of all sorts,
we never fall short.
With us it's all force like air ones.
Some wave some air guns,
the day of the fair ones it's over fo'.
Cats is colder than four below, wha'sup?
I go toe to toe
wondering if it's for the art or for the dough.
Though I know to grow a ***** gotta learn to let go,
though I know the dough I gotta bring back to the ghetto.
Aeros or Tarot cards pointin' to the grind,
po' livin' and mo' prisons pointin' to my mind.
Shine the light up!
Clench my fists tight and holdin' it right up.
Freedom fight in dark gear for the years to get brighter.
Situations, the jaws get tighter,
my man trying to get his way to higher
