J. Stalin D-Boy Blues 2010 Lyrics

[Verse 1]

No diploma, the corner was my high school

Born on the curb something that the ghetto made

Jump off the coast selling dope in the 7th grade

Where I’m from you wasn’t shit if you wasn’t paid

Watched the cocaine spread like AIDS

Hustlers trying to survive the task force raids

Playing with AKs trying to get out the projects

Nigga get outta line they pop him like some latex

Practice counting money like a nigga practice safe sex

Ever since I was introduced to ice cream

Always kept a choppa or connect in the triple-beam

Pulling all nighters I never was into chasing dreams

Hit a nigga up like the did my little cousin R[?]

Captain of the cream cheese, grinding under the full moon

These niggas snitching that’s why they faker than cartoons

I put them in the air like a fucking helium balloon

[Hook]

The whips is new, the banger is used

Keep stacking on them I don’t catch a D-boy blues

Keep dumping on they ass till the clips is gone

Hold down my set nigga rep my home [X2]

[Verse 2]

Why the first of the month my favorite time of the year?

Sitting on the fiend porch till the mail get here

I hustle hard, you bitch niggas pathetic

Mad cause I’m collecting ten-thousand in credit sale

I’m just like Gregory I get it like my p[?]

For years I wasn’t happy growing up in the projects

Nigga my money used to be little like an insect

I turned into a Racist only cause I love this green

Graduated from digitals no more triple-beams

Those were the finer things that came from [?]

You don’t now my lifestyle then fuck you nigga sue me then

You wanna fuck with the game we’ll chop you with it

Go against the flame motherfucker you will never win

R.I.P Baby Chains, R.I.P Lil’ Twin

Ima keep it stacking till I see hopefully yall again

Throw your asses back in as soon as you get out the pen

[Hook]

[Verse 3]

I’ve seen em go, selling grams to collecting cans

I just pray to God that he help me be a better man

Cause when it come to the game nigga I overstand

Only thing on my mind be them rubber bands

Learn how to cook grams, coke taste like candy yams

Little nigga moving with a 30[?]

Told the man he could front the whole brick

If worse come to worse nigga I ain’t bringing back shit

This is for a broke bitch, class, and sensation

I could show you how to stack money in a depression

Live Wire Records ain’t going through a recession

Counting my blessings before I hit the street tonight

Hoping I don’t ever end up on a crack pipe

Stuck in the game nigga still selling all white

Cypress Village where I learned the whips soft

And 10th Street niggas where I got it all off

[Hook]