* send corrections to these typists
[Fam]
Every day I say I`m stressed out
But I won`t pull my hair out
Or wear out my self
It`s very, very bad for my health
Get it together, brotha Fam
Brotha man, cause I can
Take a toll on, you understand
We are the world, we make up all the surroundings
I`m roundin
Holdin my port down underground in
This hell hole
You never know which way to go
Get caught up in the game
Or even trapped behind the do`
Po po, I saw one clip today
It was slow, cold Gz was around the way
I had to go, hibernate, create a different mind state
And wait till it was my turn get the first break
Chorus-X2
Life of a bastard, it no easy
Ja rasta know it no easy
[Chap]
I got locked up, the end of last summer, put me on probation
I had to hustle, cause I was under nuff frustration
I had no cash, wasn`t goin out diggin in trash
So I got some weed, bagged it up, called my staff
I broke the rule, hold it, sold in the school
And if in form, word is bond, I use my tool
From Ill Town, so it`s natural I`m being real sick
Big up to [Name], gun salute off mi loose lip
How could I be positive
When all I grew around was negative
The dirty lights of four, is what I live
A certain point in my life I never knew where to turn
My concern was more ganja must get burned
A young lad, never had the Dad to play, I went astray
Runnin from the cops duckin stray shots around my way
Chorus-X2
[Diesel]
You playin chicken rhymes
You kickin on a dead head-on collision
Syllables slicin your styles like surgical incisions
Envision somehow, someway you be better than me
You couldn`t fuck around, you nut, I`m a ecstasy
Forgotten just as fast as you came with no name
Rottin ain`t the same, servin more niggaz than caine
My brain`ll slain careers of future MCs, wannabe`s
Rappin like Gz, I make your fuckin heart freeze
Str8 out the land of the Ill
Swear to Jersey, I kill
Anyone duplicatin my skills for real
That`s on the High, tell you no lie
My mental`s too aggresive for your ways to defy
Every day I`m gettin lifted, sobriety win
I got swingin serpentine in a fedral pen
Ooh, let me cool down before I overheat
Representin Double I from the Ill Town streets
[Treach]
Life of a black bastard, boy from a baby
Robbed of a father figure cause Daddy was crazy shady
My mama had to be hurt, but she ain`t showin
She was raisin two little boys
and ain`t want neither to know, or to blow it
Now the loner hates the night aroma
Leanin more towards the youth house and less towards a diploma
A street roamer, damn near knockin niggaz in comas
No daddy to reach, so the streets teach from the corners
A goner, now the Fed`s, so the family splits
Sellin out on Rally Park soon after the star taff was hit
I went past the point, they found me, had a bounty
So the life of a bastard starts a new life from the county
