(Verse One)

It aint but two roads that you can take

When you doing dirt to get the money that you make

I aint going to knock you, for tryin to get your mail

But all the true gangstas is dead or in jail

See boy, you'za fool, 15 years old

Thinkin you gonna stack you up and killa bank roll

You used to have to scrape, now your krib is straight layed out

Started sellin dope cuz them Ku Klux done played out

The home boys told ya but ya didn't learn a thing

An OG, even took ya up under his wing

He said "the dope game is like a basketball team

Everybody gotta role, we can't all be a king"

Got some king pins, you got the little g's

Some people sell rocks, while others move keys

You work your way up, and now you makin all the bread

But you might meet the feds or some bullets to your head

cuz it aint but two roads



(Chorus)

The game is sweet, but sometimes it's sour

High cappers getting bumped off by the hour

You take the high road, you take the low

You'll end up dead, but you'll be on death row



(Verse Two)

I gotta friend who started strugglin, hit some hard times

Never been the type to indulge in petty crimes

Anywayz I saw him, most likely you can find me

I graduated 1989 he came behind me

But when he graduated, he started getting nervous

Mama said "you gots to get a job or join the service"

He thought to himself, "should I push up on KFC

Or join the army, and be all I can never be"

Then he remembered that his partna said "holla

At me anytime you wanna make a quick dollar"

He kicked my boy down with a small lick to start with

Said that he would stop when he moved in his apartment

And get himself a ride, but yo, something happened

He started makin bank, putting freak