Street Sense E-40 (Ft. Choose Up Cheese & Cousin Fik)

[Chorus]
I got street sense; wouldn’t pay a bitch three cents
Strapped, yeah, I play defense ‘cause I got street sense
In the hood on some G shit
Where everybody pay cheap rent
Better have street sense, street sense
Street sense, street sense
Street sense, street sense
Out here you ain’t gonna be shit if you ain’t got street sense

[Verse 1: E-40]
My rubber bands is conceited, my pistol don’t like nobody
My bullets ain’t got no names
Keep a stick but I don’t play hockey
I move with movers and shakers, they’re serious about their paper
They loyal, they not no traitors
They’ll shut you down like a breaker (UH!)
Better not get out of line
Check a hoe like a Nike sign
Ghetto pass’ll never decline
Ghetto pass’ll never decline; check a hoe like a Nike sign
I’d pull a sofa up in the middle of Magazine Street and recline
Never drop a dime, never tell, never talk
Do the crime, do the time, that’s the way I was taught
They’ll rob and they’ll kill you over some dank
Materialistic shit can be replaced but lives cain’t
I try to talk to the youngsters, play my position
Give them O.G. game and wisdom but none of ‘em wanna listen
Just a few, and if you gon’ grow up to be an O.G. too
You gotta know that sucka shit contagious like the flu
BIATCH!