Why does everybody's story seem to sound the same, struggle in the game, and left the hood for change? Why does everybody's story seem to sound the same, and left some time in vain, gotta rise and *** the land? I can remember that lil' when he was just a young lad, nobody thought he would make it up out of the hood before the gun blast. He slowly wanted to be a thug, running from cops out on the block, the boy was hot and didn't give a ***. Running up in that black mask, if you got cash, drop it off in that bag and make cracks fast. Just do it, it's just a mix of money to survive the streets, but you know deep inside that this ain't how you're trying to be. But it's all the things when you're struggling and can't sleep, cause you're hungry but can't eat, cause living just ain't free, but cheap. Your papa been laid off, mama been laid off, everywhere I hear the same old song. Why does everybody's story seem to sound the same, and struggled in the game, and left the hood for change? Why does everybody's story seem to sound the same, and left some time in vain, gotta rise and *** the land? Too proud to take a loss, I'm trying to fight these demons, by any means, by any cost, I'm out here repping clearly, they got me bobbing, weaving. You need a reason to let them flies do what I need, no longer breathing. Known as a heathen, before Lazy Bone it was Steven, and I'm just trying to break even, leaving you leaking, steadily creeping. Get deep when daddy gone, and mama can't do it on her own. Lights off, gas gone, mama, daddy coming home. I guess not, still rocks repping with my bones. And that's bone, bone, bone, bone. And that's bone, bone, bone, bone. Why does everybody's story seem to sound the same, and struggled in the game, and left the hood for change? Why does everybody's story seem to sound the same, and left some time in vain, gotta rise and *** the land? See me make a shot, me too. You ever been shot, me too. So rocks, all nighters on blocks. Catch a case and shoot me too. That's my story, no one's writing, nobody can tell it from me. Mama working double shield. Daddy who? Daddy who? And when he do, it's always late and never came. Damn look, he done broke that boy's heart. Man, a game, damn a game. Don't wonder why I strike that in the ghetto. Grew up out of luck, don't give a *** about life, so we let him go. I know my heart is cold, you know I'm ghetto, children grow. Give me the money, and I can keep my temper low. Everybody knows love, clubs, cars, and hoes. Priorities ***ed up, but we already know. Why does everybody's story seem to sound the same, and struggled in the game, and left the hood for change? Why does everybody's story seem to sound the same, and left some time in vain, gotta rise and shoot the lame? Why does everybody's story seem to sound the same, and struggled in the game, and left the hood for change? Why does everybody's story seem to sound the same, and left some time in vain, gotta rise and shoot the lame? Why does everybody's story seem to sound the same, and struggled in the game, and left some time in vain, gotta rise and shoot the lame? Why does everybody's story seem to sound the same, and struggled in the game, and left some time in vain, gotta rise and shoot the lame? Why does everybody's story seem to sound the same, and struggled in the game, and left