Through every dark night, there's a bright day after that.

Is it a crime, to fight, for what is mine?

Can the Lord forgive me? Got the spirit of a thug in me.

Throw it up y'all, throw it up, Throw it up, Let's show these fools how we do this on that west side. Cause you and I know it's tha best side.

And I... started off dumb, raised by the hoodrats, listen to the radio wishin that i could rap.

So much pressure in this life of mine, I cry at times, I once contemplated suicide and woulda tried, but when I held that nine, all I could see was my mama's eyes, no one knows my struggle, they only see the trouble, not knowing it's hard to carry on when no one loves you.

They say pu$$y and paper is poetry power and pistols.