The only words I know are life and death. The only game I know is being the only one left. The streets are where I will be judged. You cannot live while you hold a grudge. You always got to be strapped if you want to stay alive. The game we play is for keeps, there is more at stake than a corner to sling, this is just like a coke, it is the real thing. People sell their lives for a couple of grams. The racket has made me who I am. The cars and bling are just for show, it is how I let everybody know. I am not faking it, I am living out this ****. I made my first **** when I was 15 now at 25 they call me a king. I am all that in my neighborhood. Saint or sinner, only history can be the judge of me. I hope one day that my mother and God will forgive me. I was born under a bad sign and in a life of poverty. The streets are the only way I see that is left for me. So I will venture out one more time, riding with my homies, hoping I can make it back from the edge alive. With each deal I finalize I become richer, but each time I can feel it all getting nearer. The po po are always on my case, it is truly life or death in this rat race. I just hope that my 9 will get the job, an early grave or life in the penitentiary is not how I want to end my run. So until I find a way out of the game, I will just keep living by the gun.