For da Brothaz

I knew a youngster, met him at 14, a very short scene

Fiendin to make his dreams come true, but see, money was caught mean

Started runnin wild and livin life type of foul, that was my shorty's style

But deep down in heart he was still only a child

He was typin nice at ball, if he had height, y'all

Mighta been 'NBA Today', instead I watched his life fall

Blowin up the spots and poppin them tec glocks

Collectin street props, splittin tops, didn't stop, so many men dropped

Started committin murder after murder

Blasted the last nigga that tried to riff so fast he flipped him like a burger

Slipped and became the victim of his own murder hunger

He got put six feet under by a small shorty that was younger

And this type of street violence today happens too often

It hit me hard as hell to see my dog up in the coffin

People droppin a rose when the casket is closed

Hey yo, that's the name of the game out on the street, that's how it goes

They say: "Live by the trigger, die by the trigger"

It ain't about whose gun is more bigger, nigga

It's bout whose draw is quicker

So to my shorty dog puzzled I'm pledgin

Died at the age of 17, Brooklyn East New York legend

(Tap the bottom of the bottle for the brothers)

Keep it real on the street, money, and look out for one another

Thinkin back when I was chillin with K-Von, but now he's long gone

So I carried on and wrote this song to keep the strong on

Me and black-o way back in childhood when we was wild hoods

Runnin around the neighborhood and up to no good

Started hangin hard out there on the boulevard in stolen cars

Then put behind bars sellin drugs and pullin yards

Then my crimey got locked up for cookin the rock up

Started bouncin uptown to stuck up, my nigga straight blew the block up

Yeah, the blue and whites was on sight runnin with flashlights

On the double a fast life, that's when he seen his last nights

Out on the street runnin from the heat

Then got locked up from (Happy New Year!)

All the way down to (New Year's Eve!)

The two of those in a wardrobe of clothes

Got back on crackin, I let him whip the macks and go lookin for hoes

And then another sad story is headed for me

When i found out another soldier died in the territory

So in memory of my dog I write a lyric

Straight hopin melodies travel from my mind to your spirit

Hear it when I get biz for K-Von, I'm pledgin

Died on 104 Northern Boulevard, Corona, Queens legend

(Tap the bottom of the bottle for the brothers)

Keep it real on the street, money, and look out for one another 3X

(Tap the bottom of the bottle for the brothers)

Keep it real on the street