CORRIGER LES PAROLES
Paroles : Streets & Prayers
Grew up in the city, life wasn't pretty,
Hustling on corners, my crew and fifty,
Cold nights, bright lights, dreams of the dough,
Rivals shooting shots, evading five-oh.
Hunger in my belly, ambition in my veins,
Concrete jungle, feeling the chains,
Momma tried to warn me, said there's more out there,
But all I ever knew was this life of despair.
Chorus
Lost in these streets, heavy burdens I wear,
Every night I lay down, whispering a prayer,
"Lord, if the streets take me 'fore the dawn's break,
Keep my soul, for these mistakes I did make."
Seen my brothers fall, seen them rise again,
Loyalty's the code, till the very end,
Gangsta's paradise, where we write the rules,
Cash, power, respect; that's the hustle's tools.
Dealing with the deals, trying not to get caught,
Chasing paper, evading the thoughts,
Of a life lost, or a soul sold,
But in the game's grip, man, it's a hard hold.
Chorus
Lost in these streets, dreams turning to nightmares,
Eyes to the sky, hoping someone up there cares,
"Lord, if this night's the last I partake,
Guide my spirit, my soul please take."
Tales of the hood, not just sorrow and pain,
Moments of joy, love, and gain,
But the shadows lurk, the danger's real,
Every hustler knows, that cold steel feel.
Diamonds and gold, symbols of the grind,
Every step I take, legacy I leave behind,
Trust's a luxury, betrayal's cheap,
In the world of the wolves, gotta play for keeps.
But in quiet moments, I reflect on the cost,
All the lives lost, all the souls tossed,
To the wind, but I hope for redemption,
A street hustler's confession, no pretension.
Chorus
Lost in the hustle, surrounded by warfare,
Eyes closed tight, as I say my street prayer,
"Lord, when the sirens sing, and the lights fade,
Remember my heart, not just the path I played."
In this urban saga, dreams and despair,
All I ask Lord, is that you hear my prayer,
From these asphalt veins, to the throne up high,
Hear the cries of a gangsta, as I touch the sky.
Hustling on corners, my crew and fifty,
Cold nights, bright lights, dreams of the dough,
Rivals shooting shots, evading five-oh.
Hunger in my belly, ambition in my veins,
Concrete jungle, feeling the chains,
Momma tried to warn me, said there's more out there,
But all I ever knew was this life of despair.
Chorus
Lost in these streets, heavy burdens I wear,
Every night I lay down, whispering a prayer,
"Lord, if the streets take me 'fore the dawn's break,
Keep my soul, for these mistakes I did make."
Seen my brothers fall, seen them rise again,
Loyalty's the code, till the very end,
Gangsta's paradise, where we write the rules,
Cash, power, respect; that's the hustle's tools.
Dealing with the deals, trying not to get caught,
Chasing paper, evading the thoughts,
Of a life lost, or a soul sold,
But in the game's grip, man, it's a hard hold.
Chorus
Lost in these streets, dreams turning to nightmares,
Eyes to the sky, hoping someone up there cares,
"Lord, if this night's the last I partake,
Guide my spirit, my soul please take."
Tales of the hood, not just sorrow and pain,
Moments of joy, love, and gain,
But the shadows lurk, the danger's real,
Every hustler knows, that cold steel feel.
Diamonds and gold, symbols of the grind,
Every step I take, legacy I leave behind,
Trust's a luxury, betrayal's cheap,
In the world of the wolves, gotta play for keeps.
But in quiet moments, I reflect on the cost,
All the lives lost, all the souls tossed,
To the wind, but I hope for redemption,
A street hustler's confession, no pretension.
Chorus
Lost in the hustle, surrounded by warfare,
Eyes closed tight, as I say my street prayer,
"Lord, when the sirens sing, and the lights fade,
Remember my heart, not just the path I played."
In this urban saga, dreams and despair,
All I ask Lord, is that you hear my prayer,
From these asphalt veins, to the throne up high,
Hear the cries of a gangsta, as I touch the sky.
