to the youngins on the come up the paper trail isnt endless what percentage of your life you paying for Gucci belts and a car that starts with a button a little something to stunt in a decent meal in your stomach memorials for your cousins a couple years disappearing come home and you starting over your mentals a little older the pressures a little bolder see the same motherfuckers on the block that you left its been five and they still aint made it out yet bang for the set with the pistols they get but theres some young cats coming up cashing in checks this is a prayer for non believers and under achieving schemers with plans to sit with they feet up on beaches sipping tequila and tropically mixed mojitos with bitches clad in bikinis the system can defeat us we already seen the bottom we hustle because we struggle and struggle because we hustle the cycle just keeps repeating for those that come from the gutters imagine it was your family an uncle that was a drunk and a mother thats sucking Dick on the regular for a bump see theres some things you dont see on the big screen a handful of kingpins but millions with big dreams perpetrators and saviors are interchangeable watching power for hours cause them niggas is the same you popping mollys at parties and jello shots of bacardi with blunts that a set your mind free and lean that a sieze your body they say that the streets aint snitching but snitches come in all sizes that nigga right there beside you might be the one testifying we all encountered a judas that couldnt handle the sentence the burden was just to heavy they folded up under pressure