People creep by looking to score.
Its hell in the city.
Ya hear shots and ya hit the floor.
You try to keep it in check.
Smoke that blunt sip that forty.
Pretend your nerves arent a wreck.
You gotta see befor ya step cause arond the
corner somone does creep.
Ya gotta have a sixth sense.
Or into the sidewalk your blood will seep.
welcome to my life by the gun.
Sometimes you gotta forget to question
just learn how to run.
Turf does change people sort of dissapear.
Cops ask questions.
But the smart never hear.
In this war theres no side to run.
Paint it with a spray can.
Welcome to my life by the gun.