Chorus:

Street dreams are made of these niggas pushin' bimas and 300 e's a drug

dealer destiny is reaching the keys

Everyody's looking for something

Street dreams are made of these shorties on their knees for niggas with

big g's

Who am I to disagree

Everybody' looking for something



My man put me up for the share on fourth of a square

headed for delaware with one change of gear

nothing on my mind but the dime sack we blazed

with thw glaze in my ete, that we find when we crave

dollars and cents, a fugutive with two attempts

Jakes had no trace of the face now they drew a print

though I'm innocent till proven guilty

I'm gonna try to filthy, purchase a club



And start up a realty for real g, I'm a fullfill my dream

If I conceal my scheme then precisely I'll build my cream

the first tip without the clique, send the bitch

With the quarter brick, this is it fresh face, n.y. plate

got a crooked eye for them jakes

I want it all, armorall benz with endless papes

for God's sakes what nigga got to do to make a half million

without the FBI catchin' feeling



Chorus



From fat cat to pappy

niggas see the cat, 25 to flat push a thousand feet back

holding gats wasn't making me fat snitches on my back

living with my moms, getting it on flushing crack down toilet

two sips from being alcoholic nine hundred ninety nine thou

for being rich but now I'm all for it

my man saw it like Dionne warmick a wiser team, for a wiser dream

We could all score with the cartel argentina coke with the nine

up in a hotel smoking on sesamina trina got the fish scale between her

the way the bitch shook her ass

yo the dogs never seen her

she got my back living sweeter, fresh

caesar

guess, David robinson, wally moccasins

bitches blow me while hopping in the drop top bm

word is born son, I had the bitch down on my shit like this



Chorus



blowing up projects struck, looking for luck dreaming

scoping, the large niggas beaming check what I'm seeing

cars, ghetto stars pushing I'll europeans.

G-ing, heard about the old timers o-d-ing

young early 80's

throwing rocks at the crazy ladies

workshipping every word, these low rocking nigga gave me

the street raised me up, giving a fuck

I thought Jordans and a gold chain was living it up

I knew the dopes, the pushers the addicts everybody

cut out of class, just to smoke blunts and drink notty.

Ain't that funny getting put on to crack money

with all the gun play, painting the kettle black hungry

a case of beers in the staircase I wasted years

some niggas went to theirs, flipping coke as their career.

But I'm a rebel stressing to pull out of the heat no doubt,

when jeeps jetted out

Spinning, never holding out



Chorus