C.R.E.A.M.
I grew up on the crime side, the New York Times sideStaying alive was no jiveHad secondhands, Mom's bounced on old manSo then we moved to Shaolin landA young youth, rocking the gold tooth, 'Lo gooseOnly way I begin to G off was drug lootAnd let's start it like this son, rolling with this one and that onePulling out Gats for funBut it was just a dream for the teen, who was a fiendStarted smoking woolies at 16And running up in gates, and doing hits for high stakesMaking my way on fire escapesNo question I would speed for cracks and weedThe combination made my eyes bleedNo question I would flow off and try to get the dough allSticking up White boys in ball courtsMy life got no better, same damn 'Lo sweaterTimes is rough and tough like leatherFigured out I went the wrong routeSo I got with a sick-ass clique and went all outCatching keys from across seasRolling in MPV's every week we made forty G'sYo nigga respect mine or anger the TEC-9Ch-chick-POW, move from the gate now
Cash rules everything around meC.R.E.A.M get the moneyDollar, dollar bill y'all
It's been twenty-two long hard years of still strugglingSurvival got me bugging, but I'm alive on arrivalI peep at the shape of the streetsAnd stay awake to the ways of the world cause shit is deepA man with a dream with plans to make creamWhich failed; I went to jail at the age of fifteenA young buck selling drugs and such who never had muchTrying to get a clutch at what I could not touchThe court played me short, now I face incarcerationPacin' - going upstate's my destinationHandcuffed in back of a bus, forty of usLife as a shorty shouldn't be so roughBut as the world turns I learned life is hellLiving in the world no different from a cellEveryday I escape from Jakes giving chase, selling baseSmoking bones in the staircaseThough I don't know why I chose to smoke sessI guess that's the time when I'm not depressedBut I'm still depressed and I ask what's it worthReady to give up so I seek the old EarthWho explained working hard may help you maintainTo learn to overcome the heartaches and painWe got stickup kids, corrupt cops, and crack rocks andStray shots, all on the block that stays hotLeave it up to me while I be living proofTo kick the truth to the young Black youthBut shorty's running wild, smoking sess, drinking beerAnd ain't trying to hear what I'm kicking in his earNeglected for now but yo, it gots to be acceptedThat what, that life is hecticl