(Intro) Yeah… it’s real out here, man. Ain’t no fairytales in the nine-double-O. Just struggle, pain, and the hunger for more. Let’s talk about it… (Golden Ray-Sheo Radio) [Echo] (Verse 1) Born in the belly where the lights stay dim, Crack smoke rise like a ghost in the wind. Momma workin’ two jobs, daddy ain't there, He was caught up in the game, now he doin' ten years. Concrete jungle, every step got weight, Gotta watch where you walk, 'fore you meet your fate. OGs on the block whisper knowledge to the youth, But the shorties ain’t listenin’, they hungry for the loot. Gunshots echo, (b)sirens in the night, Cops roll slow, hopin’ for another fight. Brothers on the corner sippin’ Henny just to cope, Tryna drown the pain but the devil got 'em roped. (Chorus) Hard times in the nine-double-O, Tryna climb high but the streets won’t let go. Life’s cold, gotta hustle for the dough, Either you make it out or you end up below. (Verse 2) Young kid, sixteen, baggin’ up white, Thinkin’ he a king, but he trapped in the life. School ain’t teach him how to stack up legit, So he stack dirty bills in a shoebox kit. His momma prayin’ hard, tears fall on her knees, As she watch her baby boy run the block like a beast. But them boys in blue got his face in they sights, One slip-up, now he facin’ twenty-five to life. This the cycle, round and round it go, Some make it out, but most never know. Dreams get shattered, hopes fade fast, When the only way to eat is to move that glass. (Chorus) Hard times in the nine-double-O, Tryna climb high but the streets won’t let go. Life’s cold, gotta hustle for the dough, Either you make it out or you end up below. (Bridge – Spoken Word) Man, I done seen too many homies fall to the streets… Some locked down, some six feet deep. But it ain’t gotta be like that. Gotta find another way… before it’s too late. (Verse 3) Now he sittin’ in a cell, readin’ books on the past, Writin’ rhymes on the walls, hopin’ time move fast. Wishin’ he had listened when the elders told tales, Now he dreamin’ of freedom but he trapped in a jail. Outside, another shorty fillin’ his shoes, Another mother cryin’ on the 10 o’clock news. Cycle don’t stop ‘less we change up the page, Break free from the chains, rewrite the cage. (Outro – Fading Out) Hard times, man… Gotta be somethin’ more than this… Hope ain't dead, we just gotta see it… Peace.
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