When Thugs Die

Got this problem with these niggaz on the other side of town

Plus my little homey Pop-la-di he's a rider now

So you know he want some answers off top he ridin down

With them automatic weapons, load and fire in the pound (bang bang)

Hood devestated, prayin that they let him make it

Heard it 'bout the incident, it's crazy how he just got faded (it's fucked up)

But it's better places, G's call it heaven's Matrix

Pray the Lord open up, they told me how heaven's gated (let a thug in)

Certified, decorated

Murder never hesitated, I heard it was premeditated (who told you that)

And my whole hood segregated

Harlem World's so small, but my whole ghetto dedicated (Eastside, Westside)

We was young, loose cannons

Shoot cannons, point aim, broad day, wherever you standin (fuck that do it now)

We live our life as a G

Day and, night with the heat, rollin dice on the street

Now come on

Do doves fly, when thugs cry?

Here's a story 'bout the trials and tribulations of this thug life

Now, play the game, know the code, say no names

Fast life ain't no game, R.I.P. Baby Main

He was large in the game, slingin thangs

Shiny rings, diamond chains, he's a star in my hood (he was ?)

All the cars, V12 by the hood

Had the jets, had the strip, had the power, he was livin that life

New whips every hour, it's a shame, in my hood

He'll be missed like the Towers in the midst of the prowess

Not to put his business out there (uh-huh)

But the kid'll make you think that Po Rich was out here (like '86)

And in these stories it mainly contain the lobby

About the young and the restless like Harlem's main {?}

We light and chill, each night we would chill

Block number, fifty-{?}-seven, movin white for them bills

Stashin open rice for it stales, I tried to tell you

That my life is so real, they dog me in and bring me home nine-trey

Took the city on my own crime raid (N.Y.C.)

Invadin clubs, with brazy bloods (tell 'em)

Tell Peter Geisha what's up, back to the saga, when Light got killed

It's like one side of my life is killed, for real

And Chills turned state fed, couldn't deal with a state bed

But snitchin breaks the code, gotta lie in your made bed (you know the rules)

No sympathy homey, you gotta follow them codes

You get a thousand years of die in that hole (G's up)

[Chorus]