Lyrics, inspired by ''Street Dreams'', a book that was writeen by Nikki Williams.
I once knew this guy, his moms called him James
a drop out that quit, and sold his soul to the game
He thought that being gangsta is all about cream
So he just stopped everything, and followed his dreams
A teenager who, turned out to be a thug
got caught up in the hustle game, started selling drugs
Almost 5 years have passed, he's still on the streets
Selling dope, selling heat, to make his family eat
Later on, in his life the hustle got severe
It's been 6 years, no tears, in this atmosphere
No career, no kids, and no success
He didn't guess, that his stress was in big progress
Afterwards he got that new S-class Benz
he had a lot of homies, but had no real friends
Never understood, that money never brought respect
but he knew that he would get the money if he would sweat
He had everything in the world that he would like
big house, a wife, he was living alright
He didnt have to run the streets, he led other hustlers go
selling crack, selling gats, making dough, selling snow
he though a while and realized what life is worth
how he put up a smile ever since his god-damned birth
very soon, he was just dealing and dealing
his prime object was having money to the ceiling
he realized ,that other gangsters envied the man
for the streets that he ran, they had something planned
On a hot night of june, James was found dead
In his own bead, that's what his wife said
The moral to this story is about a life of a crook
How could of avoided all the shots that he took
And being a drug-dealer wont get you nowhere
You'll get shot, you'll get caught, you wont be millionaire.
