I write what I like
like Steve Biko
more concentration than a free-throw
this is for my people 
on the streets and on the yard
bruised battered and scarred
from these blocks
hustling hard, moving weight, slangin them rocks
but this is where the bullshit stops
God is the only supplier
Got more agents than the Wire
He provides any and all desires
As long as you want it
a dream never dies
You’ll always be haunted
So as I sit back and watch these fake players
Look through their cold stares
I know that they all say prayers in some form
Some of us choose to get outta the storm
before we get wet
This ain’t Vietnam 
still niggas become Vets
some ducking
others earn a metal that burns
deep down all souls yearn to be free
and at peace
but we must recognize the beast inside
fuk false pride
Cash rules everything around me
but true wealth is inside
we must be
before we are
You ain’t rich cause you got a car
Fukin ghetto superstar
You ain’t rich cause you got at a car
You just a ghetto superstar