I grew up in the city where everything is rough
Where everywhere I turn, I seen somebody gettin bust
Plus everywhere I look
All I could see is a crackhead or a goddamned crook
Runnin' around with a pistol or a blade
Stickin' up -- in other words, gettin' paid
But I chose not to follow those ways
Cause the only place you headin' is to jail or the grave
But on the other hand
I know a man named Stan
Who in the future had plans
To be successful on his quest to
Take his moms and pops out the ghetto
But that plan was soon to be crushed
When one day he realized he must
Get a better job to pay for his schoolin
While his friends would sit around just coolin
He applied for a job in the system
And everywhere he looked, everybody would diss him
He doesn't have any type of skill
And life is not all games, it's real
he took a long walk down the street
Tryin' to think of a way to make his ends meet, huh
So he could buy the fly things he adored

And all Stan wanted to make was a few dollars more

As he walked home, he thought to himself
Now what am I supposed to do to get wealth
He felt that his life was worthless
Then he ran into his man named Curtis
Now Curtis, he's the type that stops and brags
About all the things he's got
Drivin' a Saab with a black ragtop
Come to find out Curt's workin' for the cops
He told Stan there's a job that's open
Makin' it all sound good, just hopin he would take it
Yup, and like a big dummy
Stan said ""Freak it, yo, I need the money""
Curt took Stan to meet his boss
Officer Sims, a sergeant on the force
He gave him a gun and Stan began
His new career as a damn hit man
his boss really liked his wor