I can't expect one more chance.
I was warned several times in advance.
Hustle and flow have never given me the upper hand.
Cellulitis of trauma, like hot grease in a pan
Albuterol is supposed to help me breathe.
I never had a chance to become more significant than my dreams.
The system is poisoned with too many haters.
I feel like Drake, I'm on my worst behavior.
The struggles I face have several different flavors.
The world will know me by the fruits of my labor.
Chances roll through my life like dice.
The world crucified me just like they did Christ.
The government never showed me mercy because I'm a terrible sight.
Hurricane of the past surrounds me, but I still don't believe the hype.
The streets need a hero.
I evolved in the poetic voice of the streets because I hit ground zero.
I can't break up with the streets in this time of need.
I'm imprinted to the streets, infected with its disease.
I believe this is a blessing, not a deed.
Giving back to my community so I'm not filled with greed.
Why would I hide my pain when I need to expose it?
After hood rats get rich, the streets they decompose of it.
I was sent to the streets to recompose of it.
The streets most people barely noticed it.
People are dying in the gutter from starvation.
Do the donations we raise help our nation?
We are obsessed with living the American dream.
Working toward that reality is so extreme.
The American dream sets a racist expectation.
Blue-collar workers can't afford to advance their education.
Student loans and grants support those on welfare.
Middle-class workers are forgotten, and the system doesn't even care.
The government thinks they are helping us by suspending our license.
We spend more money trying to catch a ride to work, which is trifling.
Catching the bus and calling an Uber keeps us limited.
Do you think court fees and probation will keep us disciplined?
Do you think having a record will help us change our ways?
We are set up to fail with no job offers to get paid.
So wealthy families and convenience stores we raid.
Disney World, for us, is taking our kids to arcades.
A night out for us is drinking liquor, smoking trees, and playing spades.
Funerals for us are popping pills and pouring liquor on our loved ones' graves.
Rags to riches we desperately crave.
Today's world is scary, so we have no choice but to be brave.
We have been sinning so much that there's no way we can be saved.
We have been in the trenches so long that we forgot how to behave.
Voices of the streets break the sound barrier.
I dedicated my life to being the streets' carrier.
