[Verse 1]
|
Listen up, yo, shit I get upset if I see a nigga, layin in his sweats
|
With blood comin out his head like sweat, knowin I could be next
|
So, what about all the babies that aint fully born
|
That's less fortunate, like that man walkin with one arm
|
They tried to throw me up in a orphanage, with all the kids
|
But I stayed up in the offices cuz they couldn't get me, off a kid
|
It's sad when a good mother put hard work
|
Like wash clothes, off the shit we played on and got hurt
|
Why she gotta pay for the dirt
|
Cuz her only son is up the street with the whole block sour
|
Cuz you know bodies lay for 'bout for eight hours
|
Wanna talk about our chrome whips
|
There's niggas out there don't own shit
|
While we sit at home and bone a bitch while niggas is homeless
|
See niggas get piped over dice, wiped out, over 4 digit price
|
Damn near broke my heart, made me so sick, I had to go shit
|
Found her up the steps a bloody mess, hopeless
|
It wasn't cops cuz only street niggas empty the whole clip
|
Ya know this
|
|
CHORUS 2X: Case and Drag-On
|
People come, people go, that's the way life is
|
(and I heard that)
|
I don't know what to do, guess I just have to laugh
|
(and we heard that)
|
|
[Verse 2]
|
Yo bullets don't have no name
|
Or maybe y'all niggas should get better aim
|
And stop puttin these innocent people in pain
|
It's a damn shame that life aint, nothin but a game
|
And we all at the 4th quarter, cuz our time is shorter and shorter
|
Cuz y'all got time to tap our phones and hear the orders
|
And stop the coke from comin across the waters
|
But y'all can't stop the slaughters
|
Or the people from starvin
|
The guns is not standin still, they still revolvin
|
Uptight and still mobbin
|
Blacks still sling cracks and know I know why they call it
|
Fishscale, from Columbia to New York on a boat the shit sells
|
Tell a weak whore, and when I score
|
I'ma open up my door and give to the poor
|
Til they tell me they don't even want no more
|
Y'all keep raisin the rent, then tell us how to raise our kids
|
And categorize us on, where we live like by on broadway
|
It's all Dominicans and blacks that's packed in projects serious
|
And why y'all call it a project, are we an experiment?
|
|
CHORUS 2X
|
|
[Verse 3]
|
Yo, I wasn't tryin to be a slave
|
Or encaged up with braids
|
I was saved by a guy with a older age with grades
|
Told me the other ways to get paid, than lettin my gun wave
|
We know you brave, get yo' shit tight and here's a pen
|
It's much lighter, like click click, that's a gun sound
|
Blau! That's a round now hit the ground
|
That's what Drag learns cuz his pop's back was turned
|
Now call the cops, what about that gat that just got pungin
|
Or that kid that got it 41 times, you call that justice?
|
If it is, then what the fuck is this
|
Somethin I must have just missed
|
Maybe Christmas and get a nut off, we get our hot water cut off
|
Off my Timbs I wipe the mud off, cuz I put the stomp in it
|
Pretty rivers, and lakes and ponds, Drag was in a swamp in Bronx
|
Well death is where I coulda gone
|
Cuz where I'm from the bullets long
|
Y'all see the news, but why my block gang got no footage on
|
Cuz my life is like a movie, when you die, aint no comin back shit
|
So if one of y'all get shot, nigga handle it
|
|
CHORUS 4X to fade
|
|
-----------------
|
The Way Life Is
|
Drag-on |