[Rubbabandz] I'm on the West Side Highway, coming back from uptown Dominican turf, me and Brown Hornet just copped some sticky icky Split the Philly, and twist it up with some angel dizzy, the illy We call it love beat, wet blunts'll get you soaked An ice cold Corona for scratchy throat Peppermint foot or cottonmouth, one of them days I was so stressed, I just wanted to zone out Can you feel me? Holla if you hear me, stuck in the hood Daydreaming I'm on the beach, in Miami Under palm trees, catching the breeze, with family My sons running around, moms got the grill going Everybody eating good, no ribs showing Will my dreams come true one day, I'm not knowing Only thing I can do is pray, ask God for a better way And when I'm blowing
[Chorus: Mali Boy] I don't mean to let go though, holla at the hoes My nigga is pro, diamonds and gold I'm so glow, you can see Why don't you come get in the zone wit me I got the diamond in the back, the sunroof top Watching for the feds, cuz the block is hot I'm a hustler, baby, pocket full of dough I bet you wish that you was in my zone
[Rubbabandz] I wish things could of been different, for me, growing up A good excuse for me, zoning out so much I kept the mic in my clutch, to keep me from trouble My moms out of work, now we back in the struggle Now I'm back on the hustle, I got crack to juggle Hope I don't fumble, the D's knock me on the humble They got to be a better way, when I was fourteen I saw a fiend get his heart blown out in broad day Right in back of the building, front of women and children And Killa Kane still locked up for the killing A product of environment, is it a poor excuse or is it the truth We only know how to play sports, sell crack, rap and shoot It's a trap, never get caught, never look back Never look down, keep ya head to the sky Walking on a cloud, feel so high, helps me get by
[Chorus]
[Rubbabandz] Aiyo, zone out wit me, I know times is hard When you got a felony strike and can't find a decent job It feels like it's you against all odds Like an episode from Oz, getting shanked in the yard But this is real life, no lights, cameras Nothing but dark alleys, junkies, gamblers, and pan handlers Gun slingers who bust real hammers, put a slug in a fake gangstas bandana Welcome to the hood where everything's good Drug sales caught on real TV camera, to get in the building You need a scanner, we under surveillance, 24/7 Like a concentration camp, is you understanding my grammer Police crooked like the St. Ide's logo, pleasure this like Tommy Hill and Polo But keep that on the low-low, I spit that for a promo To set your mind free, cuz you shouldn't have to pay for knowledge, youknow?
