Pac Shit

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JayScutter

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I'm on my Pac shit, shed so many tears in these city streets
Dear Momma, do the people really rest in peace
Picture me rollin', 'til the end of time
I ain't mad at you, changes really take some time
This my California love, this my Hail Mary
Is getting money in the streets still necessary
The hood on fire plenty slugs flashin'
Livin' better days, that's my thug passion
Back in elementary I can tell my teacher mind was on struggle
Show me a educated bih living who don't hustle
Get it out the book, apply it, get it from the muscle
Get it out ya momma house or y'all gone tussle
I like to live good so I do it right
What's the point of waking up and not enjoying life
Clockin' in and takin' breaks or move the nick at night
But what's the point of getting out if you just going back
Black, like street lights on a dead in
The white sheet and yellow tape cover dead men
The house call from the hood bout ya dead friend
He can't write his life story with a dead pen
Again, let's pretend it's another way
Some people fighting just to win them another day
If the money stop coming, wha't ya other play
Do what the educated struggling brother say
I'm on my Pac shit, shed so many tears in these city streets
Dear Momma, do the people really rest in peace
Picture me rollin', 'til the end of time
I ain't mad at you, changes really take some time
This my California love, this my Hail Mary
Is getting money in the streets still necessary
The hood on fire plenty slugs flashin'
Livin' better days, that's my thug passion
Now picture me rollin', nothing real flashy, sit it on some feet
Some people go to sleep hungry cause they scared to eat
Some people tote the bible, some people they tote the heat
They all sinners so we don't pretend they don't compete
Aye, say every hood gotta status quo
A trap house, a jack spot, a bad hoe
I mapped out the last stop, the bad go
Fast money still busting out the bando
Yup, a rat race tapping on the gas
Meek inheritance, all first will come last
Come correct or come wit it, but never come fast
I draw a line in the sand you never come pass
Bullet shots still ringing well
Only creep niggas looked up to Stringer Bell
Them indiscreet niggas booked up and you can tell
The difference tween a nigga doing it and doing well
I'm on my Pac shit, shed so many tears in these city streets
Dear Momma, do the people really rest in peace
Picture me rollin', 'til the end of time
I ain't mad at you, changes really take some time
This my California love, this my Hail Mary
Is getting money in the streets still necessary
The hood on fire plenty slugs flashin'
Livin' better days, that's my thug passion

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