(voices)reflecting on my past, Wondering how i lasted, if god ain't have the wheel, I probably would of crashed it, and sent to him dressed in wood and plastic, got to get this money drastic, whip that shit till its thick similar to molasses. from home of buying weave on food stamps, and ghetto asses, where kids doing grown shit, still while in Pampers. cussing since the age of 3, that gangster just instilled in me. out here fulfilling fantasy's, , my girls got to sleep under canapes, they count on me, cause they got to eat. and my son ain't nothin light of me, right my wrongs right now so he ain't never got to fight for me. he intreaged in being a man, I got to make him one thats better than me, I see him paying attention he on my feet, just keep him out the streets, and this I prey and this I'm gone preach. money over everything, but it's still some shit you got to see