Album Name : The Last Street Preacha
Release Date : 2005-02-15
Song Duration : 3:42
T-bone Street Life
A yo, picture me rollin', like pac
in a drop gold double R,
woman, champagne, weed, cigars and
caviar, living tha life of a thug,
moving 'em drugs, ducking 'em slugs,
dealing with phones tapped wit bugs,
plus, associated wit some hard hittas,
cold killas, convicts, thugs and drug dealers,
cop killas and drug lords stacking 8
figures, quick to pull a trigga and
leave a body floating in a river,
we gorillas, in this jungle collecting
mad scrilla, banking on cheddar and cream from dope fiends,
from a land where everybody gotta
fend for themselves, half of tha
mommies doing 25 to life in a cell,
seems like we dwell in tha pits of
hell, wit no bail, chained up, captive
and tortured by the enemy's spell,
who hears my cry from these lonely
jail cells and what do I profit to
lose my soul and gain from drug sales?
Livin' tha street life, crystal,
drugs and crushed ice, hanging wit
players that plan heists and roll dice,
in casinos, like Bugsy Siegal,
we outlaws, forever livin' illegal, tha street life.
A yo, tha street life is tha only
life I know, taught to hustle these
mean streets and grind to make dough,
cope that 4-4, jump in tha 6-4, blast
on my adversaries then end up on death row,
yo, this was tha life I seen raised
as a youth, where everybody smoking chronic, sippin' 98 proof,
ain't no happy days and sunshine,
in my hood it's just crime, crying and one time, slugs flyin',
and everybody tryin' to come up in
this evil drug game, insane, visions
of murder just increase the pain,
cocaine and met amphetamine, I want
out, but I gave an oath to tha death
of me, so let it be,
I'm a ride on my enemy, but when they
bury me, I fear where my soul will be,
eternally, searchin' for light patna,
but I'm in tha midst of tha dark, it's
so hard, when you in this ghetto prison, looking for God.
Livin' tha street life, crystal, drugs
and crushed ice, hanging wit players that
plan heists and roll dice,
in casinos, like Bugsy Siegal, we outlaws,
forever livin' illegal, tha street life.
Another homey die so I wipe the
tears from my eyes, and ask God how many
lonely painful tears will I cry,
seems like nobody even care about
here in tha hood, I tried to get
a job, but they swear I'm up to no good,
misunderstood from a young age, on
a rampage, from an adolescent,
carrying hollow points in my smith-n-wessen,
for anybody second guessing if I'm
scared to test 'em, ain't nuttin' even worth livin' fo',
tha richa getting' richa and tha
ghetto remain poor, liquor stores and tha gun shops,
and everybody wonders why my thugs
pack glocks and kill cops, full of
hurt since birth, why was I placed on this earth,
seems like everybody in tha ghetto
is cursed wit a curse, and what's
worse, is that my patnas dying at a fast rate,
dear God can you help me out, I'm
looking for an escape.