I'm a take you back to day one, livin' in this new york slum
It's deaf to the dumb, only break bread with some
Moms left at fifteen, had no American dreams
To this day I'm sellin' to my cousin, who's a fiend
No one would got me but my older brother
Little did we know the dirt we did fell back on my mother
But didn't care back then, that's why she left like that
Now my parents became the street, and it's best like that

Some nights I pray to God and ask him to pull my cord
'Cause times is hard like the opposite street'll leave you scarred
Street wise, with no respect for authority and shit
A chronic hustler of crack; a typical bitch
Raised by Madu, who strung out on a glass dick
But every now and then I blessed her with a hit
So she don't have to trick
It's prevalent amongst kids today
Hustle krills, stack dough, and everything's okay

[Chorus]
It's the emancipation proclamation under the self-devised guidelines
Of self preservation and starvation (I gotta live)
It's the emancipation proclamation under the self-devised guidelines
Of self preservation and starvation (and I gotta live)

My life in this world wasn't about diamonds and pearls
It was rough growin' up around the boys and girls
After daddy left, shit was a mess; momma stressed
But I give her an award, 'cause, damn, she tried her best
Holdin' down the household, barely had money to fold
Christmas time, cherished our little shit like gold
I can't front; daddy was still there for me, cared for me
But him and mommy breakin' up was like a nightmare to me

Yo, this is for the younger fathers and mothers, sisters and brothers
Success is nothin' if it ain't; if it was with the others
We gotta make the best out of this terrible situation
If not for us, for the younger generation
We gotta break the chain, and deal with the pain
For all our people that was slayed in vain (revenge)
For all our peoples that was falsely framed (revenge)
For all our peoples that's livin' the name

[Chorus]

Let me show; I gotta love L.O.D., they put me under they wing
And then I teamed up with the most beautiful thing
In the world, 'cause L.O.D. we all we got
I'm a fans and my mans keep it, like it or not
I know it hurts havin' to do everyday dirt
Police all over my back; feel like bustin' them jerks
When I'm my road to the riches, I stay away from snitches
And them bitches, and keep my mind on business

Life was tough, so I became aggressive like a pit
The only time I felt relaxed was when the blunt was lit
Thinkin' me and my team can be tight like the Gambino
Muscle in the hustle scene; respected like Leno
It gets deeper than the words of Proverbs
New thoughts emerge as I cop the squat on the curb
Thinkin' the herb; strengthen my brain like spinach
And heavy shine, flooded with ice might; reduce my self-spirits

Stick 'em; my life is so real it hurts
Like when I saw my pops bein' driven off in a hearse
Like when I saw my mother bein' driven off in a hearse
Like you school when the roach crawl out my shirt
Like on thanksgiving when we got free food from the church
Back then it was DJ Red Alert and Cool Herc
Rockin' been stripe knees and latigra shirts
Back then L.O.D. was puttin' in work

From the cradle to the grave
We all in the struggle, we gon' struggle, we gon' strive to stay alive
All my real people know what I'm talkin' about
Watch each other backs
Word up; my life is nothing without my niggas, word up

Writer : HOLLAND, BRIAN/DOZIER, LAMONT HERBERT/HOLLAND, EDWARD, JR.
Copyright : Lyrics © EMI Music Publishing, Sony/ATV Music Publishing LLC, Warner/Chappell Music, Inc., UNIVERSAL MUSIC-Z TUNES OBO ERICK SERMON ENTERPRISES INC. , UNIVERSAL MUSIC-Z TUNES OBO ILLIOTIC MUSIC