| Coming back with that 1990s mob, nigga! |
| (Bring that shit back, bruh!) |
| You understand that! Uh huh! |
| (Bring that shit back, man!) |
| Look! Give it to them straight with that mob shit, man! |
| You feel?! |
| Wrong side of the bed, that’s how I woke up |
| Throwed in the head, I’m fucked up |
| Being a minor, I wish my daddy would have never bust a nut |
| Sometimes I wonder why I’m here |
| Never freeze up |
| Never stop in the streets like a deer |
| Wildlife smell fear |
| Get you out of here quicker than a spaceship |
| The realest shit is in it, livin' it, gettin' it |
| On the grind, trippin' sometimes |
| 50 cal, fuck a 9 |
| Take your kindness for weakness |
| Up and down the highway, I stay with a grudge |
| My family don’t even hug |
| Born with a mug |
| My partner; Grimey, sell bud |
| «Only time I go to clubs is when I shoot up clubs,» |
| With the little homie from the hood, slaggin' ounces |
| Rode the back of the bus cause they was forced |
| Hung and dragged by a horse |
| When I say hung, not the jury and of course, of course |
| That’s why I’m throwed like this! |
| (Man, I can’t help it, bruh! I was dropped on the head when I was a baby, man!) |
| That’s why I’m throwed like this! |
| (I gotta protect mine! So when I was 9, my uncle and them handed me a 9!) |
| That’s why I’m throwed like this! |
| (All I hear is sirens and helicopters! Gotta tuck the kids in the bathtub! |
| Bullets ain’t got no names!) |
| That’s why I’m throwed like this! |
| (It's either kill or be killed out here in the 'ville! These fools will kill |
| you, then go to a club!) |
| Banana clip, 30 dick, extra clip |
| Take a sip |
| Don’t think momma’s even aware |
| Section 8, and WIC |
| Going through it, having hardship starving |
| Use a broom, not a vacuum for the carpet |
| Couldn’t try no benefit card, EBT, in the inner-city |
| You see more children in juvie than elementary |
| Look forward to the penetentary |
| Ready, be in there with my uncle and my daddy |
| Living life savvy, selling candy like a cavity |
| Catastrophe, tragedy |
| Please Momma, don’t be mad at me |
| «I love you no matter what happens to me» |
| That’s what I told my momma, reading the Bible |
| On the way to a revival |
| Creator or idol, good God Almighty |
| I hope I don’t catch a body |
| It’s shitty like potty |
| It ain’t karate |
| But they’ll kick you when you’re down |
| That’s why I keep a frown, keep a hundred-round |
| Plow a sucka down if I must |
| Put some cheese on a head, no crust |
| Pull a nigga wig, no brush |
| None of you niggas I trust |
| Most of you niggas wear blush |
| Pussy-ass niggas, no nuts |
| Poodle-ass niggas, muts |
| Telling on niggas on a hunch |
| (Beeeyatch!) |
| (Everywhere I go, every time I bend a corner, them people pull me over and hem |
| me up!) |
| That’s why I’m throwed like this! |
| (Being from the ghetto, it was nights I didn’t know where I was gonna lay my |
| head! I had to sleep in the car!) |
| That’s why I’m throwed like this! |
| (Smoking and drinking 24 hours around the clock! It ain’t no love out there for |
| a young black man!) |
| That’s why I’m throwed like this! |
| (When little niggas get stressed out, they liable to play Russian roulette to |
| see if it’s they time to go!) |
| I need some weed, some drink to help me think |
| To take my mind off the pain |
| My Benjamin’s baldheaded, they need some Rogaine |
| Going through it, a brotha trying to have some change |
| Know faces cause I don’t remember names |
| Life can be good, but it can be a bitch |
| A lot of homeless people used to be rich |
| Used to have hella chips, paid |
| 'Til the po-po and the batter-ram raid |
| White-collar crime the same thing too |
| They in the feds, I know a few |
| Fools in the federal, fools in the SHU |
| Locked in the bing, locked in the stew |
| Incarcerated like you, live it |
| That’s why I always try and go visit |
| In the visiting room, picture it |
| COs talking to us like we illiterate |
| «I admit I’m not a graduate,» that’s what he say |
| But his grandmama taught him how to pray |
| Voted for Obama all day |
| Raised in the South; lived in L. A |
| Stubborn, born in the month of May |
| Everything gotta go her way |
| «Hella bling,» that’s what she say |
| She know I’m out here pushing yay |
| (Ain't no physical activity for the kids no more! Just video games!) |
| That’s why I’m throwed like this! |
| (Every time I take a step forward, I end up taking three steps back, man!) |
| That’s why I’m throwed like this! |
| (I don’t know who to trust! Shit, I can barely trust myself!) |
| That’s why I’m throwed like this! |
| (My momma made me think I was crazy just so I can get a SSI check!) |
| That’s why I’m throwed like this! |