Don’t Shoot the Messenger E-40

[Verse 1:]
I got love for real dudes good brothas don’t respect suckas
What want for myself i want for others
I had holes in socks and my draws growin up stressin
Didn’t have a lot of money and material possessions
Pop warner and little league pitched played out field
Had a valet times hill and paper route to help pay the bills
My hood is a battlefield lots of talent a skill
Women smart enough to be journalists like federico winfield
We hollow broke we or got the latest iphone
A zap it or choke in the LeBron zone
Can’t remember your sat but to every e40 song
You can recite every lyric and rap along
We living in different day such challenging times
Financial binds, senselessness crimes
I was talkin to my og he did 20 for real
He said if i had some bread i wouldn’t put none of these niggas in my will
Because they turn like a steering wheel and forget you when you in jail
They didn’t write me or nothin no commissary no mail
That’s what he said to me so i pulled out a g
Even though he used to run with my uncle i was just 3
Years old with a snotty nose and observing him being nosey
Soaking up game and ear husslin while they trade war stories
Thugin and bustin, death and destruction
Chaos and catastrophe, triump and tragedy