song by Che Noir
Dying breed lyrics

featuring 38 Spesh


Oh uh. Oh yo. Look look.

I had to urge for this life if I had to earn all my strikes
A born hustler, I could sell a purse to a dite
Me, I've never learned from advise
It was the muse and the fights, I was powdered
I made a sharper in a surgical night
Y'all was fakes and drug dealers behind my curtains and blinds
On this road of riches I was my drive turn into flights
On my road to riches my cops always searching my ride
They ain't find nothing, just violating my personal rights
He ain't a hustler, he the burglar type
Go head box, got the glock [?]
They hit harder then a [?]
They took a key from his kids, not servant type
Caught a case and watch the race, the judge serve him the life
Sent him away and afterwards they played tennis with his lawyer
My man go to prison, and I hand him the [?] for you



[Lyrics not complete yet]