(sic)

it's been twenty-two long hard years of still strugglin survival got me buggin, but I'm alive on arrival i peep at the shape of the streets and stay awake to the ways of the world cause shit is deep a man with a dream with plans to make C.R.E.A.M. which failed; i went to jail at the age of 15 a young buck sellin drugs and such who never had much rying to get a clutch at what i could not... could not... the court played me short, now i face incarceration pacin -- going up state's my destination handcuffed in back of a bus, forty of us life as a shorty shouldn't be so ruff but as the world turns i learned life is hell living in the world no different from a cell everyday i escape from jakes givin chase, sellin base smokin bones in the staircase though i don't know why i chose to smoke sess i guess that's the time when i'm not depressed but I'm still depressed, and i ask what's it worth? ready to give up so i seek the old earth who explained working hard may help you maintain to learn to overcome the heartaches and painwe got stickup kids, corrupt cops, and crack rocks and stray shots, all on the block that stays hot leave it up to me while i be living proof to kick the truth to the young black youth but shorty's running wild smokin sess drinkin beer and ain't trying to hear what i'm kickin in his ear neglected, but now, but yo, it gots to be accepted that what? that life is hectic...