It's the first of the month and my beeper is blowing
I can't stop 'cause my cash is flowing
I'm baggin' 'em up bustin' 'em down quickly
'Cause I got five brothers waitin' on me at Thrifty's

I'm in the other bucket on the late night pursuit
With two kis and and forty ounce of brew
I ain't trippin' 'cause my tags are legit
Ah ****, now them tats is on my tip

So I drops my brew, what the ***k am I to do
P*** the street to shake that fool
So I smashed on my pedal and rolled down Golden Gate
And threw these mother***kin' kis in the lake

Guess who comes through, it's a fool
I gat tapped that ***, red dog, and boo
We kicks it on the hill everyday
Slangin' rocks with Glocks now we gots to get paid

The street life's how I'm livin' and the po-po tryin' to get me
But they can't catch up to a mother***kin' Philly
That's how I'm livin' in the day
But when it comes night I packs a forty and an AK

Waitin' for some punk to jump so I can start to pop
And put some mother***kin' holes in his drop
The watch his *** grasp, then I laugh
He shouldn't have last so I taxed his punk ***

A young brother in the game for my fame and glory
I'm really down for my pops and the hardcore stories
Mandatory is my money, ya best believe
Because I'm rollin' through ya town with gold tone D's

Lookin' clean with my mug on mean
But in the ghetto it ain't nothin' but dope fiends
I pull up on the turf not thinkin' of gettin' burnt
With a nine in the trunk it ain't gon' be no funk

Serious about my mail, don't give a ***k about a jail cell
'Cause I post bail and all hell breaks loose
'Cause I got juice, though it seems to me
But in reality the other man is out to get me

Forever on the run, that **** ain't funny
And I ain't never heard of no extra money
The ninety-eight cents, no food for less
I send a dope fiend to steal my Guess

The ghettos of a way where the players star
Where white men won't, where white kids won't
They say it ain't cool and it's bad for they health
And if ya hit magazine, break ya self

'Cause that's the rules man and don't ask why
Either you slang, **** ****, or die
My only concern is to strive
***ked up around in the street life

The reason I ain't do eighteen yet, check
Is because I got people praying for me, bet
I pays my ties even though the money's filthy
Don't wanna go to church because I feel guilty

The way of the street life is really quite scary
Thinkin' tomorrow man I might get married
So when I leave my pad, I grab mt Glock
And my bulletproof vest and my ski mask dock

On the gooch pal, I won't be caught out of bounds
Can't let these fools stop my life
So I strive, I might be about one eight
But in the mind I more like twenty eight

I see the po-po poppin', the brothers droppin'
*****z plottin' and children starvin'
All this **** in my face
I gotta get up out of this place

The middle of V ain't enough see
A ***** feel like I gotta sell D
I share a room with six little brothers
Three to a bed fightin' over covers

The crack of dawn, I read the paper
A Jewish old lady said a ***** ****d her
The finger always points at the black man
But not the whites, Filipinos, or Mexicans