Verse 1] Born by the tracks Grandma kept a scale by the plastic snacks Uncle had a stash in the mattress back Said, “School cool, but this where the taxes at” Brown paper bag, rubber bands in it First run, heart jump every damn minute Mama in the room with the fan spinning Counting every dime like our last dinner [Verse 2] Three p.m., phone buzz, that’s the shift start Homework in the backpack, but I skip parts Posted by the mailbox, eyes on the small park Lil kids hooping, I’m bagging up dark Family business, I ain’t get to choose roles Cousin did ten, he the one that drew roads Showed me every cut, every fence, every loophole Told me, “If you freeze, that’s how the tomb close” [Chorus] From the corner to the sun don’t sleep Serving every hour that the block gon’ need Hood survival, gotta grind just to breathe We was up all night, up all night From the corner to the sun don’t sleep Serving every hour that the block gon’ need Hood survival, gotta grind just to breathe We was up all night, up all night [Verse 3] Streetlight flicker, that’s the time stamp Three in the morning, hoodie, dry hands Cold in my bones, but the line jammed Every knock feel like I might die, fam Sirens in the wind like a sad song Neighbor at the window with the mask on Asking for a front, say his cash gone I see my own face in his cracked jaw [Verse 4] Hard struggle, fridge held frost and a ketchup pack EBT low, Mom stress, that pressure back She know what I do but we never chat Just sigh when she smell it on my sweater clasp Eight at night, switch shifts, that eight to eight Eyes red, chest heavy from the weight of weight Friends fade, one shot, one paper plate Rest in peace written on his baby face [Verse 5] Block talk, everybody swear they got plans But the grave get crowded ‘fore the shot glass Judge don’t care ‘bout our background Just chains and a number on the flat ground I learned math off a digi, not a blackboard Counting up twenties like a passport Dreams small, just “don’t let my fam starve” Funny how survival feel like a bad job [Verse 6] Now I’m looking at my little bro’s sneakers Hole in the toe, class clown, class dreamer I could teach him every cut, every street turn Or show him how that same path make a wreath burn I still hear the block when I try sleep Voices in the vent, little sirens in a tight beat If I crack one door, maybe he might see How to leave that shift that ran my life deep [Chorus]
