Dealer

Soul survivor a rebel a rider, you can call me that. Bullets whiz by my head, pistols pointed to my back.
 A street entrepreneur my corner is a open market. Yo right here I got it all dope weed and crack.
 Watching my life go by as I am counting stacks.  I live on borrowed time, yet with my last breath or with my lost of freedom I will pay it back.

But I can't take my cash with me when I am stretched out in the back, of that black Cadillac.
  I just don't deal drugs I deal facts, the streets is the biggest pimp in the game I call it the Mack.
 Rain sleet or shine we stay strapped as we walked that track. For every fallen Soulja, we shed tears, as we poured out that yak.
 In Chicago when those cats catch a body. Best believe they are going to smoke that pack.
 Better to be judged by 12, then carried by six. So keep that gat.
 As your head stays on a swivel, the streets always watching so you best not lack.

 You got to watch your dogs, and watch those cats, watch out for police and watch those rats.
I move in silence, I was born with finger prints, so I don't rock no tats.  
What can be seen can be identified, move stealthy and give them nothing to look at.

Listen this is a little street lesson. From a dude that ran those street. I'm still alive. So I thank God for granting me a street blessing. Because most my friends are laying 6 feet deep resting.