Dead in a Year

I'm your number one suspect cause I wear black 'locs
 Took my head back and choked on weed smoke
 Ya call me a ghetto thug but I say: 'Damn you!'
 I'mma live my life just how I want to
 I'm out there bad, like a mad man, the savage
 You can't manage with that, I'm doing some kind of damage
 I'm in a ghetto street spotlight
 I'm always loced down and always high as a kite
 Now everyday is like somebody's watching me
 Gotta get my 9-millimeter before they cap on me
 They be be coming up good, this number one suspect ain't no punk
 Go pop ya trunk, go grab ya pump
 I ain't about to be put to rest
 Cause this young black ghetto thug ain't expired yet
 I'm strong with no fear, they said I be dead in a year...
 I used to roll in them rental cars with a trunk full of oz's
 Droppin'em thangs off, sometimes they were whole keys
 Me as my brother's parents, now he runs with the Killa Klan
 And my nigga K.B., now he's a family man
 Solo solo chemistry, my mind started building
 And if ya breath took off, that's when I started to thinkin' millions
 That's when I got agg, bought me an A.K. and bunching bag
 And gamed the squad game and a perfect aim in a nigga's ass
 See, my solution was to take every god damn thing I wanted
 Even if I had to break a nigga's mothafucking ass down
 With these hard hitting hands or with them automatic rounds
 Shit, within no time I had a lot of people scared
 Cause the whole damn city found out jacking weren't dead
 And a lot of jealous ass niggas and hoes
 Said I would be dead in a year but that was two years ago
 And I'm still living...
 Everybody's living in a world of crooked thoughts
 I've been criming for years, no fears of getting caught
 I'm always labeled as a suspect, snatching gold
 Stealing clothes outta stores before they open their doors
 I'm struggling, thinking crime gonna help
 I brought a child in this world but I can barely feed my damn self
 Water and bread, who gonna keep the kid fed?
 Jacking ain't dead because of my little mark ass
 Me and Sho at your do' about fo' o'clock
 Who ever answers the do' gonna get robbed and shot
 Icy Hott wasn't made for the minimum wage
 That for I grabbed my gauge and got my ass paid
 I got popped by a chink at the corner store
 Staring at me from the time I walked through the door
 He thought I ran out of his store with a beer
 He shot me in my back and I was dead in a year...
 Say I be dead in a year, I won't see twenty-one come
 And at the way I'm going out, G Rappgonna be my mother's only son
 Say I never be shit, just another nigga in a pen
 But I get mo' money, spend it and get paid again
 Left my books to be a crook, left my job just to rob
 How ya gonna tell Flea how to live when times get hard?
 Be myself, so I did, I need help, I sold drugs
 Cause all I ever knew were crooks and thugs
 I was down from the heart, cracking cars until ya start
 Take it to the back of my hood to undress the fucking parts
 Everytime I've seen a cop, I got a bad thought
 Like breakin'em down the middle like a half ounce
 And ya life for tomorrow wasn't garantied
 Cause ain't a nigga got a life time warranty
 And I know them hoes shit that we still here
 And gonna be living to blow out our candles next year...