nobody wants it more than me i m writing stories bout my life pumping gangster music and smoking weed this ghetto poetry this is what it s suppose to be i m certified like i got a stamp from a notary i m getting crazy ass fan mail a kid with no dad up in his pad doin crack sales telling me that his mom is never home i don t think she really cares that i m drinking liquor gettin blown i m getting high just listening to you rhyme sick i replied with homie take your time with life cause i was in your shoes once chillin with the crew that was makin them other foos run there was alotta gangs we had to choose one the cops raided us like every other two months take my advice that ain t the life you wanna live make your mother proud graduate and make it big i can hear the streets they talking but you don t know the shoes i ve walked in only thing i hear is money calling don t crucify me crucify me  i was performing in chicago i met this girl we was chillin sipping from the bottle tellin me stories about her young cousin pablo before he passed away he bumped my music in his monte carlo was my biggest fan used to play me everyday was even planning to take a trip to la wanted to see me rap in front of a crowd told his friends i was raw as fuck reppin the brown can t believe the next letter this young girl wrote your songs kept me alive last night i almost overdosed going through depression she might be pregnant and not to mention her boyfriend didn t reply to the message i wrote back and said baby your wrong you got a future and you shouldn t be apart of this song i know it s hard to be positive when you feeling hopeless you can t give up and hope that heavens doors open i can hear the streets they talking but you don t know the shoes i ve walked in only thing i hear is money calling don t crucify me crucify me 3