Streets Dried Up

Dedicated to the silent
Not many left
What happened to the streets
What happened to the real
Streets Dried up use to think it would last
But being a real G, that’s a thing of the past
Trucha when you bang might lay in some chalk
And keep your lips sealed cause gangsters don’t talk
Streets Dried up use to think it would last
But being a real G, that’s a thing of the past
Either Homies turn into Enemies, shakier than frost
Keep trucha who you keep close, cause gangsters don’t talk
Let me tell a little story about a little homie from my old street,
this little loc would do anything for the homies
Used to daydream of one day being an OG and would do anything to finally have
his own heat
He used to have to call to borrow one
Committing crimes, this little foo was always on the run, kicked out of class
really no one else to blame
Got jumped in now he got himself a nickname
Committed in the street gang, blasting enemies on sight, anything to get his
street fame
Little hyenas knew him on the block, he sold his nickel sacks foos his age
would no trip, cause OGs had his back
He robbed a house and finally got a strap, enemies slashed his neck,
now there’s no looking back
Sad to say just like a rat he got caught in a trap
Rat-a-tat-tat you know he had a blast
Streets Dried up use to think it would last
But being a real G, that’s a thing of the past
Trucha when you bang might lay in some chalk
And keep your lips sealed cause gangsters don’t talk
Streets Dried up use to think it would last
But being a real G, that’s a thing of the past
Either Homies turn into Enemies, shakier than frost
Keep trucha who you keep close, cause gangsters don’t talk
Streets Dried up use to think it would last
But being a real G, that’s a thing of the past
Vatos these days, bitches turning into snitches
Vatos get the business, getting caught up with the sickness
And these lames are falling sideways, was going on I feel you Marvin shit
But now in my days haters talking mad but still they smile in my face
No matter what I’m number 1 in my race, repping stuff for my race and my brown
skin
In the end who went enemies who changed from friends
Ever since a kid I had these visions that came true
Robberies and gunshots, street life was all I knew
But still a Criminal reps that color Blue
Streets Dried up now I’m looking like what’s up with you, vatos straight hit
the switch like a lowride used to be on G shit now lets go by
Streets Dried up use to think it would last
But being a real G, that’s a thing of the past
Trucha when you bang might lay in some chalk
And keep your lips sealed cause gangsters don’t talk
Streets Dried up use to think it would last
But being a real G, that’s a thing of the past
Either Homies turn into Enemies, shakier than frost
Keep trucha who you keep close, cause gangsters don’t talk
Even got a homie I grew up with matter fact a couple of them
Never say they names, no fame I ain’t fucking with em
Straight turn to tweakers, but at a point in their life they were like fans on
the bleachers
Used to have my back only if the situation benefits
Nowadays I shine them off these haters ain’t shit, even if they’re from my own
side
Fuck them on the real, a Criminal has to much pride
«Why you talking foul ese, why you talking loud»
Ese what the fuck you talking about, you sounding like a motherfucking bitch
right now
Get your face crossed out, fucking with my lifestyle
On the real I swear to God, make this promise right now
Run up on me put a shot right between your eyebrows
Straight from the Westside till my death
Streets dried up but the Criminal represents
Streets Dried up use to think it would last
But being a real G, that’s a thing of the past
Trucha when you bang might lay in some chalk
And keep your lips sealed cause gangsters don’t talk
Streets Dried up use to think it would last
But being a real G, that’s a thing of the past
Either Homies turn into Enemies, shakier than frost
Keep trucha who you keep close, cause gangsters don’t talk