song in a minor

Its the streets, you know, it sound something like
Sirens, shots fired, the sounds bumping like
Warning, warrants, yeah, we found something like
A person, place or thing, them nouns coming like
Gimme the loot or the truth, them rounds coming like
Toasters out of holsters, get down something like
The pavement or the grave shift, ground something like
My grind or my kind, my town something like

Yo, we got a live one, dudes a ticking time bomb
Partly disguised one, that shouldn't surprise none
Hostage situation, my man just untied one
Screaming out the window bout wounds he should've died from
Five guns, surplus he got supplies from
Pressed him for details but they won't provide none
They lied son, convicted before they tried son
Didn't make the news so the people wouldn't riot son
Kept it quiet, on the low they wanna fry son
Gave him ninety years plus another nine son
Unkind son, cold truth you can't hide from
It's Big, they prayed for his demise son
That's not all, the ashes that he rise from
Those same blocks on which that i've hung
Lungs he cried from, pride gone, look what i've done
Looking at the skies, like your times come

Its the streets, you know, it sound something like
Sirens, shots fired, the sounds bumping like
Warning, warrants, yeah, we found something like
A person, place or thing, them nouns coming like
Gimme the loot or the truth, them rounds coming like
Toasters out of holsters, get down something like
The pavement or the grave shift, ground something like
My grind or my kind, my town something like

Somebody get Jesse here, it's bout to get messy here
At home on the phone, is he on the line, yes he's here
Let's see here, section C-er, in a leap year
Breeched here, cut the cord, landed on my feet here
In streets where you in the game or the bleachers
It features cats raising the toast like it's three cheers
It gets deep here, procedure is deceit here
It ain't sweet here, there's no surrender nor retreat here
Bred to eat here, talking rye, white or wheat here
Like pigskin in this pigpen, stay on your cleats here
Buzz in the jungle like mesquite here, cuz armed with the deet here
They in the hood but not in the sheets here
Police really on the beat here, they sweep here
So if you ain't got it, please don't reach here
Unless you want the preacher, breathing on your cheek here
Your family will be here in the first row of seats here

Its the streets, you know, it sound something like
Sirens, shots fired, the sounds bumping like
Warning, warrants, yeah, we found something like
A person, place or thing, them nouns coming like
Gimme the loot or the truth, them rounds coming like
Toasters out of holsters, get down something like
The pavement or the grave shift, ground something like
My grind or my kind, my town something like

Listen up, this is my story, you can learn from it
No stripes, no hype, no glory earned from it
Taking the last shot like Horry, your turns coming
Pimps who got morally more than a perm coming
Moms was a stern woman, Pops was a sperm dumbin
Kool smoking, booze choking, bailed like he earned summons
On missions to turn something, kitchens with warm Ramen
Riches confirm stunting, my will is to learn Drummond
Reality is blunted, my wish is to burn one end
Discern a couple mill and then i'll turn one in
You and the male seed, whoever concerned coming
Like U-N-L-V, whoever returned gunning
Like David Sterns coming, I hear them alarms humming
Pop screens, SWAT teams and them armed gunmen
On a push like Bush, the end of my terms coming
Eighteen, charmed, cunning buried as an armed conman

Its the streets, you know, it sound something like
Sirens, shots fired, the sounds bumping like
Warning, warrants, yeah, we found something like
A person, place or thing, them nouns coming like
Gimme the loot or the truth, them rounds coming like
Toasters out of holsters, get down something like
The pavement or the grave shift, ground something like
My grind or my kind, my town something like