Hot lead bust through iron pipes
Blood drips from the corner of young thug's mouth, the hood life
His torn flesh, and his last bit of breath
Pulses over dead flesh, homicide hover like vultures
Married the game, now the Earth's dirty indulgence
Should of seen him though, nikkas though his heart was the coldest
Left two seeds, little son Ra was the oldest
Two baby mothers, blowing guns, duckin' under covers
And his motto was, no one in this whole world love us
From the womb to the tomb, presumed the youth's scars
Soul on ice, tears of a killer, behind bars
When you curse God, streets is a gangster's graveyard
My advice, in the meantime, to you, is play hard
It's real, when you deal with the cards you dealt
It's not real, when your seeds feel the pain you felt
Break the curse, disciple, nikka, pave the way
It ain't gangster, when your seeds go lay in the same grave
Then die in the same hood, bleed on the same corner
The game's over, all of my nikkas, have fair warning
Fair warning... lie's life