1996

(album: 17 Bullets - 2016)

"These are the real Sopranos"

Yo, if it don't affect us we never paid much attention
We busy, stuck in our ways, still slaves of tradition
Boys to men quick cause we was raised in the system
Worshippin false Gods from a made up religion
Most of my close friends caught felonies in they teens
You either in or out, there's never no inbetween
Never wanted much, just longevity for the team
Could have went to [?], funny my speciality was the fiends
Gold on my neck, that's what they expect from us, we kings
Got ya bitch for a pet, she just wanted to please
When she around, we don't talk checks, numbers and things
That's family business, we don't address none 'til she leave
Uhh, when you a hustla, ain't nothin ever out of reach
When I count a milli up that's when I'ma sleep
Until then I got a seat for who got it cheap
I heard they 21 in Atlanta just like Dominique Wilkins, ahh

Sometimes friends turn to foes
I can make halves turn to wholes
I pray my ideas turn to goals
These the confessions of a burning soul
The mirror tell me that I'm turning old
Stress on me-the street shit done turned us cold
Uhh, movie shit; I had to earn a role
These the confessions of a-these the confessions of a

Ahh, you won't [?] the realest when I'm not in the room
My mother always told me not to assume (real shit)
And I got this far abidin the rules
A block with a groove, a Glock, pot and spoon
Uhh, I know she worried when I don't call her for weeks
Caught in the streets, I think about her fallin asleep
Her oldest dead, her youngest locked up callin to speak
She taught it to me, so she know, it's part of the streets
Fatherless seeds, grow up to be robbers and thieves
Blood thirsty killers with a carnivorous greed
Street chronicles, we honorable thieves
Started off coppin coke, hope we don't end up gettin conjugal V's
Uhh, real shit, you already know what I'm into
Real things that's what real men do
I put a mask on my face if my rent due
I'm just happy I don't look like what I've been through, uhh

Sometimes friends turn to foes
I can make halves turn to wholes
I pray my ideas turn to goals
These the confessions of a burning soul
The mirror tell me that I'm turning old
Stress on me-the street shit done turned us cold
Uhh, movie shit; I had to earn a role
These the confessions of a-these the confessions of a