LYRICS BY SLEIGH22 I remember when I was living in the trailer park and I would whip my mongoose bike no handbars I'd ride wheelies just to be a bad ass ripping round down town round the bin slinging tree for the fame in the fast lane with the older cats tryna be a hustler. learning so much about the drugs and dope game I was just tryna make a name. I'm still tryna make it out the struggle. still tryna get a cut of. me and mines it was only me and my team we were packing heat boxing gloves up in the streetz tryna come up through the struggle with a little side hustle. I'd love to show you where it all started I was mean mugging everybody wishing a motherfucker would make my day and throw shade in my face I was Unconcerned with anything except the things I really wanted to attain like get my self out of the house and into a job 9-5 instead of this trapstar life get my own and come up with a plan to drop the world on em set the bar high cause there ain't no slowing me down. I was angry at the world because I had some issues with absent parents tryna make a way out when it was hard I wasn't that smart. if you came around the end of my street in the dark you might get your car stolen and have to end up toting your belongings back to the house or sit on the corner on standby waitin on the sheriff that did rounds when the boys in blue had to come down our street you might get your car back might be wrecked in a high speed chase. no need for a introduction my names good i gots people who can vouche for me and the truth is imma be me till the very bitter end but I'm telling you everybody and there brother was tryna get there cut of and clipping corners just to come above the drought no longer waiting for the bus to pick us up because we were whipping the Ford escort. I was a senior back in '12 I was running from 12 no longer consumed in myself I wanted a family I stacked up my wealth I'm still tryna hit that lick still tryna sale those bricks momma raised me wise and daddy raised me hard no need for authority imma boss I'm in charge running from 12 tryna stay busy so I don't fail like a bum and be in jail. can't get right when your living in a cell. i no longer have friends to make my bail. my circles small nowadays everyone switching lanes nobody's real and I'm still looking for a record deal. still whipping stove top and drop top to stop a thot from jugging you and clean out the stash when your threw sale everything you've worked up and you'll get your weight up. if it wasn't for those hard times when I had to hit the licks and give up the a stack to bust down a pound and break it down and serve it around make the counties surrounding our township community come up because I raise the $ on the cost of extacsy all the neighborhoods that enjoy the cocaine feel the affects of me pushing that crack now I'm graduated to shake and bake ain't no faking what I've got to do hustle hard till I drop or they throw me in a cell. or that closed casket is the way I roll past ya carried by 6 instead of judged by all the ones that said they'd be there such lies fair weather friends in disguise a real friend is the way to operate that way youve got a team in your corner live a long life with a good time when you were living be not concerned in what you can't change live in the present not too far in advance or the past because the air in our lungs is all we have.