A 2nd Chance Ft. Master P and
C-Murder
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How many my true niggas actually get a second chance at life?
At their dreams? Not many, huh?
Peep game
Started off as a street thug, just hanging and thugging
'89 I went to jail for drugging and mugging
Popping pleas ain't no motherfucking way for me
Probation for 10 years don't mean you're free
I know my true motherfucking niggas know how I feel
This shit's real, I wish my brother wouldn't have got killed
For me to realize the game was weak as shit
Can't even trust the niggas that I used to hang with, huh
But I remember what my brother told me
I know a real bitch by the way she hold me
I love my true niggas like I love money
If you fuck with No Limit you'll never find nothing funny
And I'll take it to the grave with me
If you shoot first, bitch, you better make sure you hit me
'Cause I'm known for chopping keys on my mom's table
I split 100 G's with my niggas Kane and Abel
Fast money, fast bitches, what I live for
Until I caught a fucking bullet in the back, bruh
They thought I was dead, but I'm still in it
I'm back to life, back on top, ain't no limit
From the cradle to the grave
Just some youngstas on the streets tryna get paid
From the cradle to the grave
Just some youngstas on the streets tryna get paid
From the cradle to the grave
Just some youngstas on the streets tryna get paid
Tattooed, Hennessy, and weed
Grew up in the projects with killers and G's
The Last Don is known for slanging and banging
Thug niggas, 3rd Ward, Calliope where we hanging
Ghetto soldiers, mercenary with rhymes
And it's life or death, and it's your soul or mine
Don't play no games, boy, just tryna get paid
Hope I get rich before they dig my grave
So many penitentiary chances, feds and demons
So many homies in the ghetto with their soul left spinning
In God we trust, ain't no man gonna hold me
My best friend be my lady 'cause these fools are phony
So take heed, I've been beyond and back
I live my life through the law, my homies, they greedy, look back
I said, uh
From the cradle to the grave
Just some youngstas on the streets tryna get paid
From the cradle to the grave
Just some youngstas on the streets tryna get paid
You couldn't tell me nothing, a little ghetto child running wild
Chased tears through years made it hard to smile
Met your homie dying, why you standing right there?
See, yo, my reality is your worst nightmare
And now I'm trapped in a whole fucking world of sin
Kill or be killed, homie had to hide by the hands of his best friend
You gotta know if you wanna live, there's rules to this shit
You can't break 'em if you wanna be rich
And when my homie died and didn't come back, I knew it was on
Nigga stressed, die for less, got his name on a tombstone
See, my prayers go out to homies who done walked that path
I spray-paint your name on the wall and I sit back and laugh
You gotta make decisions, make 'em all with precision
Try to make moves and avoid prison
I remember the first time I laughed at the penitentiary cell
But when they told me spread left and cough, I knew it was real
Now I was just out there tryna gain some stripes
Spirit came to me one night, told me
"Silkk, you gotta change your life"
But it was all or nothing, could never settle for second
Gotta make the whole world feel my presence
I told my homie don't cry if I close my eyes
But Silkk the Shocker, you too young to die
From the cradle to the grave
Just some youngstas on the streets tryna get paid
From the cradle to the grave
Just some youngstas on the streets tryna get paid
From the cradle to the grave
Just some youngstas on the streets tryna get paid
From the cradle to the grave
Just some youngstas on the streets tryna get paid