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What motivated me to write this song was life. It starts with me feeling like I need to make a major move, and my tolerence for the streets with a certain understanding, so expect me to be prepared. Then explaining how foolishness get you on the other side of the living

Chorus
We on the grind in the streets we runnin/ you don’t know where we from/ so don’t let us catch ya’ll frontin/ cause my soldiers are raised in the slums/who told you that you stylin/ you ain’t foolin one but yourself/better watch just how your whiling/ we be shooting to there’s no one else.

This my feature presentation, mix Mafioso, 40 old gold desert eagle fully loaded, drugs on the table, piff in da backwood, fiends in da backwoods, gotta keep it low, whatch the po-po / everybody know/ snitches all around/ catch’em peaking out the doe/ I got a slug for your brain/ I don’t play games man/ bullets real clean no prints on the shells man/ f*** the struggle I’m a do it my way/ cop a couple keys take it run across the highway/ out a town money/ double on the price money/ where the fiends got money/ and I ain’t talkin 20’s/ the streets I live/ try to keep a job/ work for penny’s 10 dollars 40 hours (f*** that), grab a couple goons/ hit the bank/ fill a few bags/ live large a few weeks/ and then get right back!
Chorus
We on the grind in the streets we runnin/ you don’t know where we from/ so don’t let us catch ya’ll frontin/ cause my soldiers are raised in the slums/who told you that you stylin/ you ain’t foolin one but yourself/better watch just how your whiling/ we be shooting to there’s no one else.

I feel stuck on the ledge / stuck on the edge/ I can fall any minute/ they all want me dead/ But, I don’t give a f***/ I don’t deal with sucka niggas/ they can all eat a nut/ or slug from the Mossberg/ I’m from the ghetto/ you can get a cocktail/ you can get a beat down/ the city never sleeps/ mean I never sleep/ from the gutter on the corner/ to the burbs and the saunas/ you can be gonna/ you can loose life standing on the wrong corner/ you can get your throat sliced/ how ever you want it/ the truth let it be told/ the hood let it be known/ “Diversified Thoughts” got the streets sown! Got the streets blown/ drunk off patron/ twisted on piff/ like he’s in a zone/ he’s off the chain/ he’s a new comer/ he’s on fire/ to hot for the summer.
Chorus
We on the grind in the streets we runnin/ you don’t know where we from/ so don’t let us catch ya’ll frontin/ cause my soldiers are raised in the slums/who told you that you stylin/ you ain’t foolin one but yourself/better watch just how your whiling/ we be shooting to there’s no one else.

I love to see these fronting nigga’s/ fake superstars/ some niggas run they mouth/ get slumped on the curve/ buried in the woods/ no more talking/ now yo ass dead/ from all that f***ing barking/ you thought you was a big shot/ sittin on 24’s now you nobody but a mother f***ing corpse/ it’s as easy as 1,2,3, and bye bye / its no lie/ now you got a spot in the dirt/ rated two thumbs down siskel & ebert/ he talked to much/ and then he got shot/ his car got took/ his house got robbed/ everything he had even his baseball cards/ understand the streets man/ cause this could be you/ if you actin the fool/ you better slow down or get your brains found too!/ found in the ghetto/ found in the river floating rotten!
(Last bar on hook when the song ends!) Cause they get money /and take yours on the blocks where I’m from!