Word is on the corner of Gas & the Plate
The don who got laced up by mistake
Time flies yo we chillin at his wake
Sittin up, suing down and shit feel type fake
Nice '88 black is held down with the white face
The way shit was going, couldn't wrote out his will
Hear them be sneaking upon niggas, cuz he love to kill
Met war, slouching cars, to send you bon voyage
One fourth of tears pullin out from the eyes of your mom
The rise of your life is on, negative or positive
You trying to live right or wrong, something just got to give
Even if you got a BM, it's the walk of dead, everytime you seen him
Prisoners walk, always try to go for freedom
Year two thou, back space, niggas delete them
Praying god, everytime we eatin

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