(Woman voice sample:) Alone in the street. (x3)

(Styles P:) You, fuckin with my soul.

(Verse 1: Styles P)
I, don't really care, what I sell or what I sold,
As long, as I give my soul, whenever my story told,
I, don't know how you roll, but I roll,
All alone,In a zone, knowin damn well, my little brother home,
Still feel him in the passenger seat, can't see him and
I, wish that he could chatter with me,
In due time, until then, I got more than a few rhymes,
Thought I'd be there, to see him, like more than a few times,
Try to stay away, from beef, but, shit is gettin deep,
I, restin right, it's like I'm on lay away from sleep,
I, think I, should of been, an author or somethin,
Disappear like hoffer or somethin,
Come back, when they offer me somethin,
My word eye, gotta a little crust, in my third eye,
Headaches, is why I'm, meditating,
Thoughts, is devastating,
Could this be, my last life,
Maybe my past life, Is the future, when I sleep?
So, what was last night? I'm going in deep, and you know the ghost.

(Chorus, over woman alone in the street sample:)
1,2,3,4,5'0clock in the morning, you know I'm trying to see more,
All day, All night, all by myself, and you know that I'm alright,
7,8,9,10,11,12 pm, you, know I trying to get, it in,
All day, All night

(Verse 2:)
Mad live,
Could learn to bounce out, on a bad vibe,
Or even keep a gun, in your cab ride,
Have I ever thought, of my life as a bad guy?
Made a little money, sellin rocks that was cap sized,
Robbed a lot of people, like I never was baptized,
Yeah, I was a very young teen, when I took my shit, hotter,
But, got right off my dean, when I could book the ramatta,
Cause, I rather, be a robber, or a midnight morata,
There's a part of me, that loves bein gangsta,
All of me, I couldn't help but, get in the game,
The shit was, callin me, and I think that I was callin it back,
But, you can't help but trip, if you fall in a trap,
If the lord call, who got the phone for callin him back?
These, are man made, why dont'cha tell man to do that?
But, he can't, So I'm a stay on a spiritual flap,
Cause, it's a up hill battle, and I'm dealin with that,

(chorus)

(Verse 3:)
Consider this the sermon,
Start the burnin,
Never said you was hard,
I ain't give you the permit,
I might think your vermette,
Better yet vomit,
Alone, in the streets,
With the gun by the armpit,
Can't put the sharks, with the pine fish,
That's conflict, sorta like mixin,
Boy scouts with, the convicts,
Somebody gone pay, if somebody gonna play,
Cause, the streets cold hearted, than a hot summer day,
If you gonna rap, please, stop go away, flush your crack, then,
Give your gun away,
Cause the rules, is written down, in invisible ink,
Just consider what the critical think,
Don't rat, do ya bid in the clink,
Stand tall little boy,
Get ya self a shank, if you feelin paranoid,
But, real talk, fuck jail talk,
I know home sweet,
Even locked down in a cage, is where your dome be,

(chorus till fade)