dust - people this lady I know..she can't feed her kids cause she needs a fixso she leaves the crib to see the dealerthey don't eat a thing, she gots to meet him quickfeindin, sick, strong out, arms needle prickedyour usual addict, abusin this smack shitonly thing in their mind is like who got the package?as I roam the city I'm walkin by a bar..an effortless alcaholic reflected in the window,probably neglected by his kin folkssittin, drinkin the bottle..just livin his motto, whisin he be hittin the lottono future no worries, never think of tomorrowcause he knows.. it only bringin us sorrowI see the new generation..standin by the cornerstore harassin the local whoresdamn, time moves fastkinda remind me of, a youth's pastseein little kids I knew growin up bein just like melike "fuck that shiie... let's puff that weed"hangin 'round without sumthin to do, up to no goodsame shit different stage, got nuthin to loosebut when your older; it hits you like a smack in the face"why couldn't I act different back in the days"it's on, from daytime to late nightsthe city is me and I am the cityin an enviroment that don't listen to crying or pityfuck 50 cents, to many dying tryina get iteverybody wanna be tony and rise to the limitbut not everybody gets to stay alive in the buissnesso this lady I know.. stands there, waitin for dopeeven though.. he should've came ages agobut as soon as he's on place then it's onnhandshake, drugs traded for dough in the same motion.. it's time to fire up and the kids still hungryyour average blue scholar, gotta go to workgotta.. jump on the treadmill or the globe won't turn.. punchin the clock and put his lunch in a boxsmilin fake pretendin to be sumthin he's notsame shit different day, no suprisesopen ya eyes cause there's more to life thanstressin for cash, even though I knowthe landlord probably sweatin your assthe system is foul, I hope your listening nowcause this is the sound of the revolutionA doctor in Iraq, doing fine in his landpickin up customers here.. driving a cabI'm the eyes of the streets, myshit is like the holy scriptures in a motion picturehave you finding it deepfeelin like the coldest winter in the rhymes that I speakI don't wanna come off as I'm old and bitterI'm just spitin about this pain that's growing biggerI stay drunk and blunted every night in the weekand analyze these situations right when they meet