2PAC - Death row By DJ MIMO
Growing up as an inner city brotha
Where every other had a pops and a motha
I was the product of a heated lover
Nobody knew how deep it screwed me
And since my pops never knew me
My family didn't know what to do with me
Was i somebody they despised?
Curious look in they eyes
As if they wonder if i'm dead or alive
And poor momma can't control me
"Quit trying' to save my soul
I wanna roll with my homies!"
A tickin timebomb, can't nobody fade me
Packin' a 380 and fiendin' for Mercedes
Suckers scatter but it don't matter
I'm a cool shot punks drop from all the
Buckshots the fools got
I'm tired of being a nice guy
I've been poor all my life
But don't know quite why
So they label me a lunatic
Could care leas death or success
Is what i quest cause i'm fearless
The streets are deathrow
I just murdered a man
I'm even more stressed wearin' a vest
Hopin' that they're aimin' at my chest
Much too young to bite the bullet
Hand on the trigga
I see my life before my eyes
Each time i pull it
I hope I live to be a man
Must be part of some big plan to
Keep a brotha in the state pen
Counting pennys over the years
I'd done stacked many proving wrong those
Who swore i'd wouldn't live till twenty
Now they gotta cope
Since it's the only thing I know
It's difficult to let it go
I'm startin' to loose my hair cause i worry
Hustlin' to keep from gettin' buried
But now i gotta move away now
Cause these suckers love ta' spray
Where I lay down
My homie lost his family, he snapped
Shot up half the block to bring them back
The streets are deathrow
I'm dangerous when drunk, I only drink beer
Gin makes me sin unable to think clear
Henessey makes me think my
Enemy is getting close bOOM BOOM BOOM!
Got me shooting at a ghost
Some call me crazy but this
Is what you gave me
Amongst the babies who raised
Up from the slavery
I sport a vest and hit the
Sess to kill the stress
Moved out west and I invest in all the best
Those who test will find a
Bullet in they chest
Put to rest by a brotha who was hopeless
Grow up broke on the rope of insanity
How many pistols smoking coming
From a broken family i'm sick of being tired
Sick of the sirens, body bags
And the gun firing
Tell bush, "Push the button!" cause i'm fed
Tired of hearin' these voices in my head
The steeets are deathrow