The Sickside Sick Jacken (Ft. B-Real)

[Sick Jacken]
Let me tell you about my hood, let me tell you about my block
So many hoodlums, so many cops
Two ways out, get paid or in a box
One way to win, do what you can and shake the spot
Slugs, pills, a lot of drug deals and thugs killed
It’s all for money and the power cause the buck’s real
And if you’re scared homie you can cop a church still
Pray to God, see if he even gives a fuck still
There’s no religion, just these concrete saints
That only kneel when the sharpness shanks
In the street and in the holding tanks
In the west by the stormy banks
Where in war does your army rank
Soldier, I seen this shit young
That’s why my poison tongue
Only spits about my boys with guns
Fire got you shook, you only hear the noise and run
And that fear makes extortion fun, you ain’t the one

[Chorus]
If all hoods are the same, let me tell you about mine
All these young kids doing street level crime
Some on the run and some doing time
We gotta turn these kids to a sickside mind