Intro-Eightball

Talking In The Background* Uh The streets of my city be gritty Young *z pack plenty and ain＇t never show no pity Many die on streets of concrete blasted from the heat From under the seat *z just tryin＇ to make ends meat Trying to eat day to day livin＇ with no religion Luxury cars and this money got my full attention School teachers and the preachers don＇t know what to teach us They don＇t get a second look without them ghetto features Created so the non pigmentated rated Pornographic caught they children learn the words and say it Save the monsters, but don＇t nobody know the lord Status depends on the baddest sh*t you can afford And look at me I＇m in the middle of the confusion Crime in my blood and I need a transfusion Take it how you wanna take it I gotta twist and break it Make it shine to distinguish from the ones who fake it And if it comes out raw, and uncontrollable Money＇s foldable, f**k a hip-hop quoteable Nobody felt what I was feeling when I wrote this sh*t Broke this sh*t, but that ain＇t new so I can cope with this Hope it get better for those who don＇t get a chance To advance, and dig the sh*t I be saying You know what might make what I say a little clearer If mothaf**kers judge the one they see in the mirror *Talking till the End