| I found out that I was, too young, not grown | 
| I was, not ready for a world so cold | 
| I was, not prepared to make it on my own | 
| I was, not ready for what life unfolds | 
| And it was, too much, too soon | 
| I couldn’t tell if what I felt was false or true | 
| I didn’t think about what I’m about to do | 
| I’m on some, this couldn’t be real this can’t be true | 
| I was too young, but these my people, so that’s okay though | 
| I was down for anything, I’d do it if they say so | 
| Look how they cookin' it up, I’d sit and watch their cake grow | 
| Watching Robbie in the corner, he there snorting yeyo | 
| And everybody acting cool like that right there’s okay though | 
| So I walk over to him, and I’m like yo hey bro | 
| What the fuck are you doing? | 
| Get away from the table | 
| He like, this ain’t nothing but a little bit of the yeyo | 
| I got it covered plus I make the profit from sales | 
| He acting like he hadn’t heard not one of them tales | 
| The dopest brother, knocked him and they took him to jail | 
| There go another, this hustler here was destined to fail | 
| Convicted, but the last I heard he tried to appeal | 
| And Eric, he gone he wilding, busting his steel off at the popo | 
| These are the trial and tribulations of kids trying to act like grown folks | 
| I was, too young to fall in love like Motley Crue | 
| Too young, I pulled a gun and I shot this dude | 
| It was over a girl, foolish pride, I was crucified | 
| Just another youthful juvenile, doing time | 
| Forgive me mama, I never meant for you to cry | 
| Went to trial, I was sent to do a two to five | 
| Handcuffed in back of a bus, forty of us | 
| Life as a shorty shouldn’t be so rough | 
| And I ain’t no punk, here you fix your face or get your face fixed | 
| Facelift, predicate cutter, you get you face ripped | 
| They’ll bust your shit wide open and make you leak | 
| You better chill out, before I birthday cake your feet | 
| Not a bad guy, I don’t wanna catch mad time | 
| So I chill with work release in the back of my mind | 
| But the guy that I popped wasn’t dead | 
| He’s locked up in here now too and wants revenge | 
| I got shanked in my bed! | 
| I was too young to say no, too young to yell nope | 
| Old enough to taste anger but not enough to smell hope | 
| Thirteen years old, my beloved mother had just passed | 
| I started puffing grass, drinking forties, cutting class | 
| My father always used to beat on me and bust my ass repeatedly | 
| I couldn’t wait to get a change of scenery | 
| I never had a dream: nobody believed in me | 
| These mean streets are the only thing I’ve seen defeat | 
| I’m sixteen being free, chewing vics and percs | 
| Caught a OC habit quick, and my life got worse | 
| Cause now I’m sick unless I get a pill, so my head is filled | 
| With deep schemes, my tolerance: I let it build | 
| But when street dreams and quick cash is difficult | 
| You find you get the same high cheap from sniffing dope | 
| Now I’m shooting with the neighborhood people | 
| Nobody could save me from evil, I’m a slave to the needle | 
| I’m too young! |