Last Day

I remember coming out my pod
Missing that 800 block
Before I knew the knowledge God
I was tryna mix a block
All my homies back then
Never knew we bought the pain
Hoppin' out the hooptie sayin'
What up Blood, that's my Folkz, fuck it Cuz, pop his throat
Now I'm in juvie I'm losing yeah a nigga mind broke
Had so much potential
Never was I gang gang
I lived in the neighborhood
Momma got a new job
Daddy even actin' good
How do I navigate it without a trainer
A blueprint or at least a table of contents
I'm sayin' fuck it I'm riskin' it selling dope with strangers
I'm too sick of this bullshit with the point shavers
Daydreamin' bout the liquor store
When I'm bouta go to chow
Pissed off I got caught my life is fuckin' trash now
I'm really in my jumpsuit, flip-flops, I'm squarin' every corner
I'm fiendin' for pussy and marijuana
I'm lookin' for my last day

I was born and raised on Vance Street
But sellin' dope out Stickney
Where
I never learned to be an honest man
But I learned about the blicky
Yep
I could never bitch about the game (got some money)
Did some thangs (took some losses)
Maintained now I smoke chump change
I used to meditate while my celly pray
I keep my eyes open
I'm daydreamin' bout my last day

It was like any other day
Even went to school first
Couple weeks from spring break
Lookin' for that summer work
Big homies frontin' us
16 years old at my earliest
I was used to playing Transformers and a Tonka truck
It seems like a distant memory
The innocence
By 10th grade niggaz shootin' shit
Whether they hit or miss
And come back with a empty clip
Or strap up for the consequence
Ain't nobody said it's fair
Middle men ain't advocates
Who gone tell the front man the Elroy's raiding shit
Bigger fish to fry far as I'm concerned
I'm wearing country jewelry
I'm in the back of this paddy wagon and lookin' goofy
The fat funky white boys on the task force
Makin' threats on my life of course
I ain't sayin' shit through the wire bitch my head hard
Rather go out blazin' like Bodie before he got to play his snitch card

I was born and raised on Vance Street
But sellin' dope out Stickney
Where
I never learned to be an honest man
But I learned about the blicky
Yep
I could never bitch about the game (got some money)
Did some thangs (took some losses)
Maintained now I smoke chump change
I used to meditate while my celly pray
I keep my eyes open
I'm daydreamin' bout my last day

The street trauma hit different
Plenty time to think in solitary 'bout the mission
We was on another block
Making split decisions
A zipper here a quarter there niggaz puttin' shifts in
All night long fiends dancin' on the ceiling
Couple grams of diesel now them muthafuckaz kneelin'
I clear the spot, I get the count and what a feelin'
Take another dope spot a la Carter Building
Downtown Adams street nigga what you know
Lucas County Task Force
Hookers movin' blow
Spring of '93 I was runnin' like a sprinter on speed
Mr. Jewlzz keep his grind ain't no resting for G's
Nigga caption that
Right before the head count
Dayroom billy chat
Sayin' ya'll remember that
Then they call taps
And now I'm in my bunk scratchin' my head full of naps
And wishin' I could get right back
On my last day



Credits
Writer(s): Wilmot Williams
Lyrics powered by www.musixmatch.com

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