Ready to Die

[Verse One]<br>Remember back in the days, when niggaz had waves<br>Gazelle shades, and corn braids<br>Pitchin pennies, honies had the high top jellies<br>Shootin skelly, motherfuckers was all friendly<br>Loungin at the barbeques, drinkin brews<br>with the neighborhood crews, hangin on the avenues<br>Turn your pagers, to nineteen ninety three<br>Niggaz is gettin smoked G, believe me<br>Talk slick, you get your neck slit quick<br>Cause real street niggaz ain`t havin that shit<br>Totin techs for rep, smokin blunts in the project<br>hallways, shootin dice all day<br>Wait for niggaz to step up on some fightin shit<br>We get hype and shit and start lifin shit<br>So step away with your fist fight ways<br>Motherfucker this ain`t back in the days, but you don`t hear me though<br><br>[Verse Two]<br>No more cocoa leave-io, one two three<br>One two three, all of this to me, is a mystery<br>I hear you motherfuckers talk about it<br>But I stay seein bodies with the motherfuckin chalk around it<br>And I`m down with the shit too<br>For the stupid motherfuckers wanna try to use Kung-Fu<br>Instead of a Mac-10 he tried scrappin<br>Slugs in his back and, that`s what the fucks happenin<br>when you sleep on the street<br>Little motherfuckers with heat, want ta leave a nigga six feet deep<br>And we comin to the wake<br>To make sure the cryin and commotion ain`t a motherfuckin fake<br>Back in the days, our parents used to take care of us<br>Look at em now, they even fuckin scared of us<br>Callin the city for help because they can`t maintain<br>Damn, shit done changed<br><br>[Verse Three]<br>If I wasn`t in the rap game<br>I`d probably have a key knee deep in the crack game<br>Because the streets is a short stop<br>Either you`re slingin crack rock or you got a wicked jumpshot<br>Shit, it`s hard being young from the slums<br>eatin five cent gums not knowin where your meals comin from<br>And now the shit`s gettin crazier and major<br>Kids younger than me, they got the Sky grand Pagers<br>Goin outta town, blowin up<br>Six months later all the dead bodies showin up<br>It make me wanna grab the nine and the shottie<br>But I gotta go identify the body<br>Damn, what happened to the summertime cookouts?<br>Everytime I turn around a nigga gettin took out<br>Shit, my momma got cancer in her breast<br>Don`t ask me why I`m motherfuckin stressed, things done changed