People die in, drive by in People cry in, every day In my city, in my city, in my city, in my city People die in, drive by in People cry in, every day In my city, in my city, in my city, in my city (Ayo come around my way, dare you to cross the bridge) They hustle, they grind and they tussle They struggle, they fightin They muscle they way to the top, no sobbin, no crying They put they fire in the pours They flowin, they rhymin They writing, they focused They know that they glowing, they shining Sell dope in the open, they loaking, they smoking, they drinking They hope to be sanging the ball and that’s all that you think? They ripin off your chain they trippin and creepin they banging They throwing up flames, dippin and flippin, they slangin They claimin blocks that don’t own and die for em They taking shots to ease pain and so we writing for em To make em stop for a second cause everyone hurt If I can give them a record, I’d give them one verse I try to inspire, they survivin, they not living You can’t make a prediction, the future’s not written Although I’m not a physician I try to stop and listen It’s like we got a condition, word People die in, drive by in, People cry in, every day In my city, in my city, in my city, in my city People die in, drive by in, People cry in, every day In my city, in my city, in my city, in my city (Homie I’m Mack Maine chyeah, chyeah, uh) I’m from the city where the babies killin babies And the babies havin babies Ain’t no if, ands and maybes, All the pastors is crazy The baby mama’s lazy The congregation seem like they suffering from constipation And since female seem like they on a slow shit Niggas from my hood holler, we ain’t bout that hoe shit Soon as the beef jump off, mix with they glock up And ride around and rock windows and hoops to tear your block up It’s where the youngest practice prostitution And where niggas don’t give a fuck about the constitution They say Abe Lincoln freed the slaves But honestly homie we still slaves And we don’t behave Ever since Katrina, my niggas ain’t got sense And they ain’t got funs, but they all got guns Wuzzup America? Give back in the hood You motherfuckers put crack in the hood, that’s why People die in, drive by in People cry in, every day In my city, in my city, in my city, in my city People die in, drive by in People cry in, every day In my city, in my city, in my city, in my city For you to call me a street nigga’s just an accusation You’re probably calculating, the fact I be with them workers without the application Making money in the city I’m from, from grinding Until they get us tired it’s after racism Our actions is affirmative, come get the affirmation With our minds we can move mountains like the Appalachians Victims, of circumstance not stopping until the whole block flooded like urkle pants Niggas that creep up to squeeze on you with the hood pack Violence every day of they life like mileage So they go out in the streets smart despite college Yep, the wrong mind framed with the right wallet You listening to the heart of the city I’m part of the greediest place you can visit Niggas even fill the may up, spray up And go somewhere way up till the way up A bunch of slum dog millionaires, yeah yeah People die in, drive by in People cry in, every day In my city, in my city, in my city, in my city People die in, drive by in People cry in, every day In my city, in my city, in my city, in my city