A 2nd Chance

[Intro: C-Murder] How many of my TRU niggas actually get a second chance at life? At their dreams? Not many, huh Peep game [Verse 1: C-Murder] Started off as a street thug, just hangin' and thuggin' '89 went I to jail for druggin' and muggin' Poppa, please, ain't no fuckin' way for me Probation for 10 years don't mean you're free I know my TRU motherfuckin' niggas know how I feel This shit's real, I wish my brother wouldn't have got killed For me to realize the game is wicked Shit, can't even trust the niggas that I used to hang with Huh, but I remember what my brother told me I know a real bitch by the way she hold me I love my TRU niggas like I love money If you fuck with No Limit, you never find nothin' funny And I take it to the grave with me If you shoot first bitch, you better make sure you hit me Cuz I'm known for choppin' keys on my mom's table I split a hundred G's with my niggas Kane and Abel Fast money, fast bitches is what I live for Until I caught a fuckin' bullet in the back, bruh They thought I was dead, but I'm still in it I'm back to life, back on top, ain't no limit [Chorus: Mo B. Dick & Master P] Back to life (From the cradle to the grave) Back to reality (Some youngsters on the streets tryin' get paid) (From the cradle to the grave There's some youngsters on the streets tryin' get paid) Back to life (From the cradle to the grave) Back to reality (Some youngsters on the streets tryin' get paid) [Verse 2: Master P] Tattoo, Hennessy and weed Grew up in the project with killers and Gs The Last Don is known for slangin' and bangin' Thug niggas, third ward Calio where we hangin' Ghetto's soldiers mercenary we rhyme This game is life or death and it's your soul or mine We don't play no games boy, just tryin' get paid Hope I get rich before they dig my grave So many penitentiary chances: feds and demons So many homies in the ghetto with their soul in [?] Thank god we trust ain't no man gone harm me My best friend be my lady cuz these fools are phonies So, take heed I been beyond and back I live my life through the lord, my homie, the greed and the back I said: Ugh! [Chorus: Mo B. Dick & Master P] Back to life (From the cradle to the grave) Back to reality (Some youngsters on the streets tryin' get paid) (From the cradle to the grave There's some youngsters on the streets tryin' get paid) [Verse 3: Silkk the Shocker & Master P] You couldn't tell me nothin', a little ghetto child runnin' wild Shed tears trough years made it hard to smile Imagine homies dying while you standin' right there See, yo, my reality's your worst nightmare And now I'm trapped in the whole fuckin' world of sin Kill or be killed hit down by the hands of his best friend You gotta know if you wanna live there's rules to this shit You can't break 'em if you wanna be rich And when my homie died and didn't come back I knew it was on nigga, stressed god blessed Got his name on a tombstone Some of my friends go out before me and I walk that path I spraypaint your name on the wall and I sit back and laugh You gotta make decisions, make 'em all with precision Try to make moves and avoid prison I remember the first time I laughed at the penitentiary steel When the told me: "Spread, lift and cough," I knew it was real Now I was just out there tryin' gain some strength Birds came to me one night told me, "Silkk, you gotta change your life" But it was all or nothin' could never settle for second Gotta make the whole world feel my presence (Ugh) I told my homie, don't cry if I close my eyes "But Silkk the Shocker, you too young to die" [Chorus: Mo B. Dick & Master P] Back to life (From the cradle to the grave) Back to reality (Some youngsters on the streets tryin' get paid) (From the cradle to the grave There's some youngsters on the streets tryin' get paid) Back to life (From the cradle to the grave) Back to reality (Some youngsters on the streets tryin' get paid) (From the cradle to the grave There's some youngsters on the streets tryin' get paid)