He was a part of me, we grew up together in this cold city,
Where no one cares for the homeless and poverty holds no pity,
Where the dealers and snitches are seen often in their coffin,
if there was no white man to rule the city, who' d be boss then?
this story is told in the point of view of person who was there,
when his friend died, a hustling slave, bids put him in his grave,
he was meeting D.C. and Slinky on 5th street, their fifth meet,
ever since the request from Syx on Cambria and 5th,
I stood in the backround of it all and let it happen,
a 13 year old caught up in stress an rappin,
caught in the belly of the beast when he departed from the earth,
blaming myself for what happened, what was it worth?
a few pounds of caine? with subliminal messages in his brain,
he made the bid and brought the caine to the wrong fiend,
D.C. came to his apartment, about to spark shit,
on some sly shit, bark less than the bite, on some shark shit,
he wasn' t there, D.C. sent Syx to go lookin,
Slinky snitched like a bitch, he still in central bookin,
my friend was hidin out at his aunts, they couldn' t find him,
next day caught him at the cornerstore, gun put behind him,
he tried to explain but they fried his brain and he died in vain,
that night i cried in the rain fo long with his head in my palm,
it' s not easy to lose a friend, but i remain calm