Take A Look Around

作曲 : S. RODRÍGUEZ/E. Alexander/D. Smith

Take a look around.. take a look around..

Take a look around.. take a look around..

Yo, I had dreams but financially didn't have the means

Wore dirty jeans and bought hot sneaks from ****fiends

I know it's hard but three bucks daily is real

Out here gats kill sellin crack stacking money to chill

And 57th in the summer's like a hand grenade

Taps on that ass because my block stay paid

I'm not afraid, after money's made I parlay

Uptown burk after work at the arcade

Addicted, to cash like kids to cotton candy

And had many ways to slide papes to my phalanges

Even in high school my teachers knew the half

Cause if I wasn't in class, I'm the restroom playing craps

Keeping my game on tight like menstraul cramps

Selling twenty rocks for sixty knocks of food stamps

But now I'm on the up, no time to live foul

Concentrate on staying straight cause now I got a child

All the while, King Tech, put it in effect

Engineered it all the ears and produced by Fredwreck

For a sec, use your mind to process the data

My sound hits hard like a real Oakland Raider

Never been a playa hater or a Phi Kappa Beta

But if you front on me now, E-Vo' attack that ass later

Until my dying day I make papes and parlay

I've traveled around the world but make my home in the Bay

{"{"}*whispered*}

Take a look around.. take a look around..

Take a look around.. take a look around..

I know you know where I'm comin from brother

You got to learn about yourself before you love another

Don't be afraid of what hides in the shadows

{"{"}"Leave your 9's at home and bring your skills to the battle" -] Jeru} x2

Well the kid be alright, my crews get you fived and live right

I'm ill, so watch the bad boy spill the phil's

What is it? Mad verbal off the fifty-fifth hill

So check the word life, because it's real

I was raised on this Eastside, the poor side of hell

Where all the crackfiends all dwell

Where the brothers sell knocks of twenty knocks on all spots

And get hemmed by track star Oakland (?) cops

I ran with a wild pack

Hard like Yukon trucks, with straps like backpacks

Stackin cash for the fun

I was nasty with my knucks cause I was taught when I was young

But ****, it's ninety-four ain't no fightin no more

I see blood all over the walls and niggas on the floor

I'm mad dog - I'm tryin to make a leap like a frog

I wanted to do some new shit, write rhymes become a hit

I started off at CMT but that's another story G

A misconception of words, I had to cross to All City

Word life, now D-Wyze is stakin on the wife

I work hard for what I've gotten but I'm, still a little trife

Despite, the shit and violence, I love what I've done

Now stick my, dick in your eye so you can see where I'm cumin from

It's hard Oak, mother****ing Cali

One time to stay alive, puffin blunts in the alleys

It's one world

{"{"}*whispered*}

Take a look around.. take a look around..

Take a look around.. take a look around..