♪Uh-huh♪To the chain♪Young Gunners in beast mode, K-9 T-SoulCheat code, playin' with unlimited free throwsPlayin' their feet, move faster than a capri strollWhen they runnin' the strip like the women in Pete's showsPay the price, gamblin' with your life like Pete RoseMuscle move, paper bubble like Rue ClicquotWho got the streets of Philly floodin' like Puerto Rico'sYou get McNabb like Donovan, it's beneath thoseTheologians, point to the trap house that got us inWon't take his name in vain, like a phlebotomistI'm the one to tell you what time it isNever been in the cellar, your promisesIt's hot as a pot of grits, that's not a mythBlackness is not a monolithA lot of niggas probably gotta see psychologistTo understand why we wallowin' where the bottom isAnd common sense isn't what they teachin' in colleges*** is real when you done lost your last feelin'Jumped and bounced back off the glass ceilin'Back to stealin', to Xanax and smack DillonThat's a pillin', go *** the kids and shield themWhere hustlin' became an artThe mantras managed not to faintWhen *** ain't for the faint of heartThe rated R, everybody with Scott Razor marksAnd projects, township favelas and trailer parksThe wave been arrived, better head for the church mosqueOr synagogue, chasin' Grim Reaper with InnocideWe need it like a hole in the head, store it in a sideIt all take its toll in the end, strong niggas dieMade figures who name-bring, became king or becameFathers or sons, face of the same thingIn the hood, mouth full of blood, taste of the same stingPlayin' the game, tryin' hard to hang by the same stringYou better get the cheek cold or get feet coldNigga, man, try to get your *** re-pulled