VERSE - well, if it wasn't the allis: John Coltrane... Diplomat will hold the stage, and beat the pussy out the frame! i ain't change since the age of, Rick James... Say my name! and pour your liquor out, like already dead... and say prayer... for the homie who ain't coming home... doing life, behind bars... ain't good for his wife... or his kids... and got damn! not to mention, his little niggas slanging rocks, just to put some bread on the table... it's a hard-knock hussle, when you deal with drugs... either get hooked or booked at the same plugged... blah! blah! two shot end his story, like your nigga tory... and them blocks getting hott, like this territory... is split between two niggas glory... blue or red, is what they sporting... but what about his little misses, grew up kissing different niggas... looking for a father figure, in every kind of thug and business... now i ain't trying, blow yo mind... im just trying tell you stories of the ghetto and the lives... with the scars and the crimes... only 1% of blacks make it out the hood... and 99% of them niggas, is knocking wood... now you got me out of breathe... blowing on this horn... JOHN COLTRANE... got you reaching for the soul... it is what is it, you already know!