[Intro]

I know it's crazy

Yeah

Some of the things we do

It's crazy

Can't explain that shit though

[Chorus] 2x

Some of us break day stuck in the grind

And some of us stick shit, lust in the shine

Others past time getting drunk staying high

And it's really hard to justify some of things we do

[Verse One]

I've seen the sun rise straining my eyes

Chef and coke, addicts with the range habits loving every tote

A package worth a hundred notes going up in smoke

My motive was the love for what kept me from being broke

Now I'm related to thеse street corners, dealеrs and fiends

No rest, stuck in the grind, been up for a min

Later adapt into the fast flow of Franklin's and Jackson's

How I was making shit happen from making a transaction

Thinking survival, deep in the cycle, hitting customers

Marked money is trifle, known to be vital to hustlers

So I exchanged those, scanning my strip

For the D's in plainclothes

Pushing tinted Intrepid's and Black Durango's

Praising every package sold up on Janet Cole

Cooking bread off page and major spenders had a code

Was it greed, or the foul lust for crime developing?

In my sleep on and wake up in the cell again

Hear me out my nigga!

[Chorus] 2x

[Verse Two]

Some of us thugs believe in black Berettas and gloves

Face mask and blasting slugs

Save cash in compartments where you stash your drugs

Crashing clubs, carjacks and snatching dubs

They believe all is fair and everything that's yours is theirs

Same rules apply in all affairs

Whether it be family or foe

Or close friend hand 'em your dough

Move too damn slow where them hammers go

And some of us refuse to think it's our insanity though

While on trial we praying in case some of us happened to blow

Yet at times we feel this though I gotta take mine

Cannon up on the waistline

Never consider giving the state time

Like, fuck it this one's for the money, two for the crooks

Three for the countless victims who got it during the jooks

Four the electric tape, ropes and torture

And kidnappers in the slope recorders

Cuz of the things we do

[Chorus] 2x

[Verse Three]

Liquor bottles crack, niggas swallow yak while it's dripping

Tip the bottle back inflict the bottle cap

Laid out in puddles of booze

Broke, missing one of their shoes

Figured by sipping they can run from their blues

Only to find when they're sobered up

The same stress and problems that existed

Before they sip and started throwing up

Calling advice scripture of life

Nights get 'em tight

Arguments and fights with their wife

Pints get 'em right

Others past time dusted or blasting on some type of acid

Got 'em believing the emotion of life is backwards

While for some of us the ritual is philly's and dutches

Peeling the shit that like stick when you touch

Soon as you inhale it you love how your lungs pump it

Some of us dump it, some of us pitch and hold a

Rest on puncture, so pump this in memory of

Felons we love, dead or alive in custody

Cuz of the things we do

[Chorus] 2x