We in the hood stressing some lose hair over it
lose sleep over it lost friends over shit
fuck it I maintain try to stay sane
these hoodrats trying to drain my main vein
then turn around and fuck with your main man
it never gets to me cause I got game
when I'm down and out I smoke that good strain
passive at times but dont think the gods changed
why aint I a known artist when I work the hardest
I ask myself but I wont quit regardless
folks in my own town hate on me
fuck radio play and shows I'm number 1 in the streets
your taste buds are wack seek a second opinion
wanted to shine so much even turned to religion
didn't choose to be in this position god made me gifted
my rhymes designed to be considered uplifting

can't have everything you want in life so why not trade it for rhymes
lyriclly driven to leave a lasting impression through time
sit back and let it digest a little bit
I paid my dues and went through shit to be really sick
look not everyone can come ill like this
it aint to good where I'm at this is real life shit
want to write while alive and leave something good for the kids
you know music that fits on some historical shit
something for my race to embrace while everyone can relate
my voice carries pain indigenous features on my face
anywhere and everywhere I go I feel displaced
secure my place in heaven for heavensake
the gods and the earth disperse emotions through my verse
hate wack kids disrespect chicks so I'm considered a jerk
I only spit the truth everytime that I work
being Pacoe the Illiterate is fucking hardwork