Dear mama, yo baby boys doing fine tell the homies I'm in heaven and they aint got hoods.
I thought I had friends but in the end n*iggaz dies lonely.
That which does not kill me can only make me stronger.
My homie lost his family and snapped, shot up half the block to bring them back.
You either ride with us, or collide with us.
Everyday there's more death, and plus I'm doughless. I'm seeing more reasons for me to proceed with thieving.