E.S.G. - Intro lyrics
[E.S.G.:] June 3rd, the day I was born Lil' nappy head nigga, t-shirt all torn Mama dropped out of school, in the 8th grade Kids across the street, they use to sell lemonade Shit I bought a bar of soap, and a box of razor blades I had different thoughts, I'm trying to get paid In church every sunday, praying for some hope Asking God, that I don't grow up broke Now I'm down on my knees, asking God why Can't have no suede Pumas, or no fucking Fila's Step-daddy died, he had full blown AIDS He was tooting up, and then the nigga started shooting up Uncle started recruiting us, he was hustling crack It's safe to say, I was born in the trap No longer going to church, but I'm quick to pull my gun out Basketball MVP, the trophy's at my mom house Hoop dreams faded, nobody called Back to the block, full time hogg 18 got probation, for a pound of weed Year later I'm connected, get fronted half-a-ki's Saw my first thirty G's, games getting deeper Moved to H-Town, cause the bricks were cheaper Somebody started snitching, now the word is out And letter factors in my sofa nigga, birds in my couch FED's hit my house, they ain't find shit G Still tried to give me 20, for a damn conspiracy Asking bout my niggaz, ain't no snitch in I told the D.A., eat a dick and die Round the same time, I was fucking with Screw Gave me "Swangin' And Bangin", the first hit a nigga ever do And thanks to him I got love, so I represented Six months later "Ocean of Funk", hundred thousand independent Probation violation, I'm back on lock Dropped "Sailin' Da South", just to keep my name hot Video got shot, MLK Boulevard Three months 'fore that, caught a fucking murder charge Nigga broke in my crib, shot my partna in the head So I grabbed the chopper, left the bitch nigga dead Instead of self defense, they tried to give me murder one Three years in the Penn, homie that wasn't fun Touched down on the streets, "Return of the Living Dead" Another fifty thousand independent, get my bread Helped Wreckshop, make bout 1.3 "Shinin' & Grindin", "Dirty 3rd", "City Under Siege" Had Flip under my wing, Slim Thug too And both them niggaz switched, like some homosexuals do From "Wanna be a Baller", to "Getcha Hands Up" You wanna fuck with me, you gotta get your grands up Real niggaz stand up, fake niggaz hit the deck Everyday Street Gangsta, I'm the epidemy of that No holding me back, I'm part of God's plan Angel in disquise, I walk in God's hands And like I said befo', the devils wanna clip my wings Immortal underdog, call me Constantine Fuck the movie ring, it's real lifetime Don't believe me, ask C-Murder ask Shyne Rappers like 50, use some real gangstas mayn I really had a murder charge, really moved the caine Told to swang and bang, when I was only 17 I knew about syrup, pop trunks and screens Nintendos in the dash, candy paint shining Boys already know, I'm way mo' than grinding So yeah, now you bitch niggaz know What E.S.G. stand fo', that's my motherfucking intro nigga [talking:] Know I'm saying, E.S.G. A legend in this shit, know I'm saying This album right here, is dedicated To two special cats, my dog Nick Sholtz And Matney on lock, let's get this money What up Duke, smoke some'ing Junior
