I grew up in the city where everything is rough

Where everywhere I turn, I seen somebody gettin bust

Plus everywhere I look

All I could see is a crackhead or a goddamned crook

Runnin' around with a pistol or a blade

Stickin' up -- in other words, gettin' paid

But I chose not to follow those ways

Cause the only place you headin' is to jail or the grave

But on the other hand

I know a man named Stan

Who in the future had plans

To be successful on his quest to

Take his moms and pops out the ghetto

But that plan was soon to be crushed

When one day he realized he must

Get a better job to pay for his schoolin

While his friends would sit around just coolin

He applied for a job in the system

And everywhere he looked, everybody would diss him

He doesn't have any type of skill

And life is not all games, it's real

he took a long walk down the street

Tryin' to think of a way to make his ends meet, huh

So he could buy the fly things he adored



And all Stan wanted to make was a few dollars more



As he walked home, he thought to himself

Now what am I supposed to do to get wealth

He felt that his life was worthless

Then he ran into his man named Curtis

Now Curtis, he's the type that stops and brags

About all the things he's got

Drivin' a Saab with a black ragtop

Come to find out Curt's workin' for the cops

He told Stan there's a job that's open

Makin' it all sound good, just hopin he would take it

Yup, and like a big dummy

Stan said ""Freak it, yo, I need the money""

Curt took Stan to meet his boss

Officer Sims, a sergeant on the force

He gave him a gun and Stan began

His new career as a damn hit man

his boss really liked his work-