Yall got the money, yall got the hoes, yall got the cars, and yall got the clothes. I got the notebook, I got the pen, and now I got the mike so yall can listen. See I write what I see cause I what I see is the truth. Yall spit that kid shit get out yo youth. Living through hard times of struggle aint nobody understand the streets. Cant talk to no one, aint a snitch so I just take the pain out in these beats. Each word I spit is like another tear I shed. I was taught to make my money laying legs open or on ma knees giving head. I became a ride or die at the age of nine. Ma boys gave me missions I couldn’t decline. Karma attacked me worse everyday. Had to jack people I didn’t want to but I didn’t have a say. I never chose what I did the streets chose for me. I didn’t live as a kid the streets done grown me. See Yall got the money, yall got the hoes, yall got the cars, and yall got the clothes. I got the notebook, I got the pen, and now I got the mike so yall can listen. Getting shot at daily was how I use to live. Taught to always get revenge never knew how to forget and forgive. As a youngin growing up people say I had it rough. Now imma def poet and couldn’t thank the streets enough. Without the pain I faced each and everyday my words wouldn’t flow so easy; writers block I’d be stuck having nothing to say. As much as the streets destroyed me they raised me. As much as I regret the past I lived Im thankful for the knowledge it gave me. Yall got the money, yall got the hoes, yall got the cars, and yall got the clothes. I got the notebook, I got the pen, and now that I’ve had the mike, im through so you don’t have too listen.