[ Young Lay ]nCuddies pervednby the corner, stout, herbnGot me twisted, mo' cold killin murders nThem brothers gettin furthernGot my pencil for utensil, this'll keep they mind knowninnSpot some thugs at the club, and they got the nines showinnDirty pimpin g's, one of my dreams, player now listennLotta blacks locked down, but comin back around in '96nAll the gals my six (whatnelse?) my track crew and my mothernMake these police wonder: how is he sonundercover?nNever been a lover, but America had broke my heartnI was told to tear up out this before this tear me apartnEat through scrap, blackntracks, free milk and cheesenWhile the Japs stack scratch with thenVietnamesenBut I'm finna squeeze, stack cheese they left on a trapnA nyoung playa mack, hit the bud', spit a rapnIt's just that feelin, thatnfeelin that I have for childrennAre able to love us, but these crazy devilsntry to kill usnn{Chorus}n[ Mac Dre ]nI gotta survive, I try to stay alive, honSmokinnthat dank to deal with the painnn(My nigga Ray Luv, when'd you get upnout the pen, man?)nn[ Ray Luv ]nJune 2nd '93 I returned to thenstreetsnDid 2 months in the county and I opt to the beatnNow the copsnkeep watch, cause they know that I rapnTell the world that I'm a gangsta,ncause I ride with a strapnBut I ain't yo gangsta, just a young nigga caughtnup in the strugglenBorn hustler, goin for the jugularnOut to take thenbeast down, piece down might be too latenThe funk is on, high, drunk offnThunderbird and Grape Kool-AidnWould love to catch a playa slippin, take mendown and book menGuilty as charged, hit the switch and try to cooknmenSilence a nigga for the shit I'm spittin, I know I'm scarin yanAnpoison you created in the veins of AmericanMiseducated, incarcerated,ninstitutionalized nThat 3rd strike will have a gang of them rollersndyinnAin't no love where I'm goin, no love where I'm cominnfromnRemember me, that real-ass nigga you been runnin fromnGot usnsprung off the cocaine and the welfarenWhile the black babies die withoutnhealth carenn{Chorus}nn[ Mac Mall ]nNow how could I pledge allegiance to anracist-ass flagnWhen the rollers at my do' with a .44 mag?nGot mynmother spittin drag 'bout I ain't homenGot a double homicide warrant on myndomenI hear em pushin in the do', I grab my Mac with two clipsnCutnthrough the back window and like a g hit a fencenI'm thinkin 'bout my folksngettin sent for violationnFoes and punk police, them devils still at myndo'nI peep a group of ten tryina get informationnI threw the clips innthe Mac, start lettin off frustrationnIt's better than incarceration anynday, we gonn' die anywaynSo if I go out blastin, call it my fatenI gotnniggas in the pen like my cousin BudnLunatic Insane, and my partnernT-LovenBig Tom, Ray Ray, Killa Cuddy, Mac DrenCleek, Jamal, Jinx andnBluebonic, mannn{Chorus}nn[ 2Pac ]nNow I been called a crook, a killer, anthugnA no-good dealer of drugsnAnd Blood or Cuz, doesn't matter whatnset you wasnCause where I'm at, if you black, we strappednAs long asnki's make g's these thieves attacknAnd ain't no rules on the streets thesendaysnMuthafuckas better watch they back and take it eazaynI'm livin innthe dangerzonenAnd learnin lesson from the game, it's onnNiggas wasngone when the frame was onnI'm gettin breaken them balls dailynIs therena ghetto in heaven or do I go to hell?nSee, seems I was senteced to death,ntakin my steps with my head downnWhy pour I liquor for my niggas, causenthey dead nownMy memory since I was a little seednWas a penitentiarynfull of niggas like menThese cops can't terrorize us, they despisenusnNiggas, cause we on the risenPlus everybody's searchin for a piecenof the truthnAnd the youth turn the streets into a piece of BeirutnAndnthe truth isnn{Chorus}nI gotta survive, I try to stay alive, honSmokinnthat dank to deal with the pain