Sell My Soul

I walked down the street and saw girls turning tricks because they wanted crack instead of food; if I hadn't messed up, I’d be driving a nice car today. Instead, I’m out tagging walls, going wild in clubs, and slinging drugs for cash—that’s when I think about my future. Life rarely fazes me, even with all my enemies; I hit the hood like a barking pitbull, and when I lose my cool, I let loose on the mic. I hung out in parks where everyone was wasted, took some hard falls, and struggled just to tie my shoes; I always had dope in my bag and didn't give a damn about the cops—I’ve got everyone on my back, even the prosecutor breathing down my