[Verse 1]

Berettas and Glocks, consecutive shots

Forever it pops, catching double life just for reppin the block

Brotheren or not, the cream cause metal to pop

When the smoke clears fake niggas setting up shop

I knew murderaz who blew trial and came home king

Some of y'all catch a weed charge and start to sing

Criminal life, sinister trife, few are built for

The section of land young blood was spilled for

Not to mention the twenty beans he killed for

His fifty cal shells left in the building door

Animal rights, both sides hands on them pipes

Kenny Rogers with the dice how we gamble with life

Cameras and lights a blind fold damage your sights

Its real, another brother got hammered tonight

Its cold black, co-jacks tapping your phone jack

Living by the code I was shown by the old cats

Little nigga grown now totin a mack

Shorties sixteen telling me she blow my back

A day in the life the neighborhood hype

Johhny got blaze and blaze getting money and money got age

He an '86 O.G. who sniff now

Sugar hill romeoo cat who bring your clique down

Not only was he sniffing the work

They found the wire tap when they ripped open the shirt

Its no hurt, the burners ah burst, the murders occur

Momma on the strip, daughter learning from her

Fish nets with the big breasts working the curb

Quick sex for a big check thirsting to splurge

Drama at night, the llama start sparking the light

Its part of the life the high is like bacardi on ice

Party all night and pray that ya make it 'til morn

In the cursed earth all things sacred are gone

In the hall by the gate door waving the 4

Keep ya ears to the street or ya face to the floor

Either or heat flame for the cause beat jake and the law

Keep takin keep bangin for yours

Son you'd rather be loved than feared

There's a price on ya head and you can catch slugs from here

The drugs the beer had a nigga bugged for years

Living a lie, the mask can't cover the tears

Gotta rise up from under the stairs

It never rains in Southern Cal but its thunderin here

Just look, the killers the crooks the villians the juks

The flowers by the grave of the witness who looked

Mob style in the broad day business is took

Dirty cop on the tape gettin hit off the book

Heaven for some they squeeze off weapons for fun

Tattoo on his back states second to none

Hard body who died for his section of slum

If its hood than its like that wherever you from