Chorus:
This is goinand' out to the youngstas
The nappy headed gappy little rumblas
The ones robbinand' stores and them banks and shit
Wit the tec 9 gats and them xtra clips
The ones wit the glocks the ones wit the 45and's
Runninand' and'round the streets doinand' homicide
So peep game from ya boy bigga figga
And let me tell ya how the shit go
1978
A young nigga born growinand' up around the way
Born without a daddy shot in the proces
Vietnam war, cause he didnand't wear a vest
Moms was broke, no money in the bank
Cause when they was young they used to smoke a lotta dank
Been graduated to the dope and the booze
Couldnand't afford milk, couldnand't afford shoes
Livinand' in the projects not tryinand' to get out
Wellfare is poppinand' and sheand's tryinand' to find a spout
Son coming up and seeing this shit
No time for school cause he gotta pull a lick
By this time he did to my click
Tomorrow is the first and they all wanna flip
Red light banditand's caught red handed
Now we in the hall when they left his butt stranded
Councelor, councelor can i use the phone?
Now he kinda scared and he wanna call home
No type of guy thatand's in no type of teaches
... tried to warn him but she seems she couldnand't reach her
...
Goinand' to the ramp, sorta like a summer camp
In a few weeks he get a home-pass soon
When he hit the streets man you know he gonna boom
Moms canand't tear him off nuttinand' but a hug
But a few close homies gonna show a little love
A dub sack here and a dank sack there
Who ever said that life was fair
Now he got a warrant cause he didnand't wanna go back
P.o. ainand't shit and he ainand't cuttinand' no slack
Now he on the streets and he canand't be slippinand'
Cause at the hall we got a y.a. commitment
It ainand't gettinand' better itand's only gettinand' worse
I stroke a bad luck, better yet a bad curse
The system is set for us to straight failures
Ask the o.gand's any black man will tell ya
On the way to cominand' up, got about a g
And about 2 oand's two more will make a qp
Gangstas watch ya back, homies gettinand' down
One more week he be on a half a pound
Thatand's half of a half of a cake ya know
Gettinand' so large they need to call him mr. blow
Or better yet, call a nigga mr. b12
Gettinand' clientele for makinand' the shit swell
Cause back on the street thereand's a drought on the shit
Got to make some money, so itand's time for a lick
Watchinand' out for the neighbourhood baller, a little bit taller
Then the next nigga tryinand' to pull a motherfuckinand' trigga
Plottinand', scheming, waitinand' for the beamer
To pull up so he can run up and put the gun up
To the dome, so we can get the cash flow
But little did he know that the baller was a pro
And waitinand' for jackers and all type of niggas
Wit automatic trigger just waitinand' to give a
Rat-tat-tat and a pop-pop at a young buck
Now he stuck and they couldnand't give a motherfuck
Chorus
