Monroe Dispatch - No Struggle, No Progress

When I was young and just a small fryer

I searched through the dirty waters of my hood and used to admire

The big fish with fancy rides, women on the side and teeth that shine like fire.

They wore the latest styles with do rags and timbs

They rolled in candy-painted whips with twenty-two inch rims

And, I said to myself, “I want to be like them”.

Popa was a rolling stone, he left us alone and he’s probably locked up state

Moma is praying, that she can keep paying, maximum bills with only a minimum wage

She is always saving, but I’m still craving for things she can’t put on...