Pages of My Life

But, I think you should know
 Yeah, that's right, suicide mission (feel me)
 Just because the boy do or die livin'
 Like he was born and Bed Stuy, 45 liftin'
 Niggas, get this guy twisted
 He slide clips in
 This one for my Queens niggas that died
 pitchin'
 I was objected to hood shit in mom's kitchen
 Pops cocked a pump and watched fried
 chicken
 I'm three years old standing there my eyes
 were drippin'
 Swinging little fists on him, but only die hittin'
 And the small rage I had only made him laugh
 Years later moms would tell me to save my
 ass
 Memory lane pain deep as a razor slash
 Had a baby sister that die young her name
 was Robyn
 She went to sleep when the grim reaper was
 cradle rockin'
 Over my right shoulder here I got an angel
 watchin'
 I put my heart on the paper with the table
 wobblin'
 Moms (???) for the time you was in labor
 droppin'
 It probably never occurred that you would
 raise a (???)
 Far from the moves just a state of
 knockin'???
 Suffer long enough it's time for something
 major poppin'
 Yeah I'm make sure they get me right (right,
 dog)
 Flip through the pages of my life
 See the scars were some chose to stick the
 knife
 On some real shit, these are the pages of my
 life
 Born fighter I'm sticking to the script, precise
 Can't play fair here, you got to fix the dice
 Lost everything I love trying to grip it tight
 Decided to write the real pages of my life
 Mid-chapter, age eleven was a little bastard
 I'm like kids my age, wanted to fizzle faster
 With the older gang, joined the house robbery
 Wasn't scared of Doberman and their property
 (nah, dog)
 That's why the real niggas still rock with me
 Easy, while the paper is were I drop the weed
 OE 800 we wanted, 99th of 1 of 6 we're
 straight gunners (wassup, yo)
 Now the little nigga, but his heart was
 humongous
 My older man, Frog in the schoolyard in
 summer
 Later he blew the face of Jake, he doin'
 numbers
 Most of you know how the Queens do the
 coppers
 Rastas hit a top sheen with a chopper
 At sixteen was on the scene and prosper
 Was when a nigga moved back from (???)
 Back to na (no doubt) to homebase
 (word up)
 From a place that made me a little grown-er
 But would never forget the PJs
 It's twelve days, that Steve (???), shortee rock
 LA, (???)
 Mori Croc's Pelle
 When we ring the top bell ay
 (???) my back in the days, shortee and 12A
 The best rapper from the hood that's were
 the belt stays
 Yeah I'm make sure they get me right (right,
 dog)
 Flip through the pages of my life
 See the scars were some chose to stick the
 knife
 On some real shit, these are the pages of my
 life
 Born fighter I'm sticking to the script, precise
 Can't play fair here, you got to fix the dice