i 'member my street with potholes & ditches
the memories sweet... cops cold & vicious,
windows locked down, doors nailed, i hated it once
it was the only jail i knew that the state didnt run
i debated the fun, that we had graffiti'n walls
murals of our own failures completed it all
whatd lead to our fall? of a place so deteriorated
clearly berated, fueled only by fury & hatred
but on a particular date it... all came to an end
i was the lottery winner, i used to say to my friends
.
.
.
after i hit the jackpot, i chuckled at scattered change
it was the self-worth that made up my battered name
cuz the riches came & i spend it wisely
but money cant buy a true friend beside me
just enemies who despise me, i demand em to stop it
i feel like im always slappin away a hand in my pocket
cant deal with the stress & the lies, expressing demise
i feel so guilty for not feeling successful inside
theyre pressing a guy, i dont know whats spellin abuse
half of the time i cant even tell if im used
i swelter & muse, no time to feel cruddy at all
when people i used to know suddenly call
theyre just mud on the walls, that seem to be back
but i moved out of that house & cleaned up my act
time to move on.. but its funny to dance on
money has made me the only one in a mansion.
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