[Jim Jones]
My homey Cash, well he gone for five
Send my prayers, do your thing, I'll be going for mine
Shit, we live life to the fullest
Three hundred and sixty five nights on the strike, that's a bullet
Shit, and uncle Ricky got a month and some change
And it feels like the garbage truck just dumping the pain
All on my shoulders, I'm warning my soldiers
The nights could get chilly, but the morning's much colder
I've seen summers get cold
And niggaz do it up until the point they done and the fold
They can't succumb to the cold
Those of frostbitten, up north sitting, just like some fucking lost kittens
They get locked up for carrying boy
Doing time underground up in Marion, boy
Shit, I respect you
You do your time like Gotti, and come home like that Marion boy
[Chorus: Cam'Ron + Jim Jones - repeat 2X]
You got weed? Smoke it, You got dice? Roll it
You got guns? Shoot it, You got a ho? Stroke it
You got money? Spend it, You got cars? Whip 'em
You caught a bid? Do it, You got kids? Love 'em, hug 'em
[Jim Jones]
I gotta keep striving, I gotta keep moving, I gotta keep grinding
If this was the road, and I was a trucker, then shit man, I gotta keep driving
Through the lies and deception, had to ride through neglection
I'm an insomniac, up all night, pops and moms was an addict, shit
My puffing scums is a habit
I need me a contingency plan, my pops with the syringe in his hand
He was leaning and nodding
Uncle Ricky your mission is like Afeni was Robin
Shit, you should've seen the apartment
All I ever wanted was franks and beans I was starving
Crack fiends on the carpet, shit
But if it wasn't for grandma
I swear I'm in love with my grandma
That's why I only does it for grandma
That's when I roll in the street
I pray she covers me from the crown of my head, to the sole of my feet
[Chorus]
[Cam'Ron]
I figured its means as a minor, huh
Look at the foods ad
