It's hard to maintain, especially when you're stuck up in this game. Surrounded by prostitutes, hoodrats & "B"ches. Tired of poverty... wanna rise to the top and see riches. Thug niggas, drug dealers, soulja's and grown ups. Smelly & pissy hallways... to crack pipes, needles and used condoms on the staircase. Oh, and let's not forget broken liqour bottles... hungry, ghetto children wishing for no tomorrow. Life ain't fair, living on welfare. It's a damn shame, got to pote ganja just to be tame. Gunshots, body drop, murkin' cops by night... girls dancing on the block, making that cutty pop by day. I want to get away. Just flap my wings & fly, blood tears flow down my eyes... watch a soulja cry. Can I get away from all the agony & pain? Load up the .38 and press it to my brain? I've tried it so many times... but i always stayed strong in my heart & mind. I am a soulja... I survive!
