(stic.man)
Yeah ... for all my peoples that's hungry
(Chorus)
A nigga need food
You got to have food for ya health, and clothes
Gear to keep esteem for yaself, son, shelter
A place to lay for rest when ya stressed over life
Cause it's trife and ain't no god gon help ya
(stic.man)
I feel the winter heart creepin
Vicious as the wind, which is life, when it's deep without a meanin
A trife scene it screams, niggas fiendin
The pipe dream and some be seemin like the only way to keep
Breathin in the slums -- but nothing comes
And keeping funds is like dreamin
My situation no solution, even the young become demons
Where I'm from shit is unyielding
Something like three-hundred million gun wielding black rats trapped in one building
With low ceilings, and no feelings
Cutthroat villains, dope dealings, and glossy eyed pavilions
Sunken faces, and powder traces
My people slave for the basics
The powerless devoured in the matrix
Of politics, pimps and glass pipes
From gun blast and flickin off blunt ash, the cash heist
The fast life where the have-nots rule
Stick and grab plots, toting tools, victim last by some jewels
Round the world, we stay stuck in capsules, shackled
And crackas got homes like castles
I figure the only way this nigga got to go is wild
Plottin licks for liberation, stockin cap style
Yeah ... for all my peoples that's hungry
(Chorus)
A nigga need food
You got to have food for ya health, and clothes
Gear to keep esteem for yaself, son, shelter
A place to lay for rest when ya stressed over life
Cause it's trife and ain't no god gon help ya
(stic.man)
I feel the winter heart creepin
Vicious as the wind, which is life, when it's deep without a meanin
A trife scene it screams, niggas fiendin
The pipe dream and some be seemin like the only way to keep
Breathin in the slums -- but nothing comes
And keeping funds is like dreamin
My situation no solution, even the young become demons
Where I'm from shit is unyielding
Something like three-hundred million gun wielding black rats trapped in one building
With low ceilings, and no feelings
Cutthroat villains, dope dealings, and glossy eyed pavilions
Sunken faces, and powder traces
My people slave for the basics
The powerless devoured in the matrix
Of politics, pimps and glass pipes
From gun blast and flickin off blunt ash, the cash heist
The fast life where the have-nots rule
Stick and grab plots, toting tools, victim last by some jewels
Round the world, we stay stuck in capsules, shackled
And crackas got homes like castles
I figure the only way this nigga got to go is wild
Plottin licks for liberation, stockin cap style
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