Streets Raised Me

It's kinda bug how I dose sometimes; know they staring
Brain feels like a wheel lost without the ball bearing
Stuck, contemplating who I can trust
But like llello in a bill my feelings just get crushed
But thats why I stick with my duns, like I stick with the guns
Don't get mad, Rip your hun, concentrate on my funds
Lift heavy gats concealed by my waist
Never get patted down when I step in the place
Jiggied up, scope the spot, confirm beef, if it's not
Bally up, after this get followed straight to the crib
Gem Star, double edge apply pressure
Shave em down, blow marks intruding through your mecca
Wanna be a thug, now you got the thug look
Stick em up, leave Medicaid with the bill to foot
God-Body, With a rubber grip black shotty
Pump one in that ass make a nigga switch hobbies
A dosage, hand delivered, without postage
Bring it to your door step quick on short notice
Niggas get sniped like, clog your bronchite
Show em how to rock right, when bitches are holdin mics, street life

Why'd you have to raise me this way?
You taught me how to survive the concrete
For how long only time will say
Forever you a part of me (Street Life)

This is something you feel nigga, like the theme song from Hill Street Blues
This is real, this is ill street news
How he gone, and left his moms mind struck
And now his brother not givin a fuck
Little sister giving up the butt now, Dun don't wet that
I want you to rest black, cause you can believe that Noyd gon' handle that
Cause when I get em, I'm gonna have em
Pull out the sweeper, and spray it at them
I'm no killer, you know me
But I'll be damned if I don't ride for my co-D
And then this Old G, scold me, and told me, coldly
You keep it up and you will be dead like your homey
But I gotta redeem, get this cream by any means
I never been clean
Nigga, my whole click got dirty
From the vials, to the trials and the bloodied up syrtie
Nigga you heard me, it's gangsta (and to the block)

Vision the canvas I paint a picture
Similar to Ernies Barnes nigga
But mines is more ghetto more guns
More drugs, mostly thugs
All my duns, their baby moms daughter and sons
Dark blocks, with streets lamps shot the fuck out
Park benches is broke, a nigga stretched out
Jumped off the roof and fell to his death it's real
Hand Ball walls displayed with R-I-P murials
Those who sling, play the shadows by the building
Devils spring, keep em going while the snows blowing
Grams get dipped, 50's is moked, cookies is broke
And Spliced in large pieces for the fiends to smoke
The sun set looks beautiful over the projects
What a shame, its ain't the same where we stand at
If you look close you can see the bricks chipped off
Sometimes niggas miss when they lick off don't get clipped off
Street life