[E.S.G.:]

June 3rd, the day I was born

Lil' nappy head nigga, t-shirt all torn

Mama dropped out of school, in the 8th grade

Kids across the street, they use to sell lemonade

Shit I bought a bar of soap, and a box of razor blades

I had different thoughts, I'm trying to get paid

In church every sunday, praying for some hope

Asking God, that I don't grow up broke

Now I'm down on my knees, asking God why

Can't have no suede Pumas, or no fucking Fila's

Step-daddy died, he had full blown AIDS

He was tooting up, and then the nigga started shooting up

Uncle started recruiting us, he was hustling crack

It's safe to say, I was born in the trap

No longer going to church, but I'm quick to pull my gun out

Basketball MVP, the trophy's at my mom house

Hoop dreams faded, nobody called

Back to the block, full time hogg

18 got probation, for a pound of weed

Year later I'm connected, get fronted half-a-ki's

Saw my first thirty G's, games getting deeper

Moved to H-Town, cause the bricks were cheaper

Somebody started snitching, now the word is out

And letter factors in my sofa nigga, birds in my couch

FED's hit my house, they ain't find shit G

Still tried to give me 20, for a damn conspiracy

Asking bout my niggaz, ain't no snitch in I

told the D.A., eat a dick and die

Round the same time, I was fucking with Screw

Gave me "Swangin' And Bangin", the first hit a nigga ever do

And thanks to him I got love, so I represented

Six months later "Ocean of Funk", hundred thousand independent

Probation violation, I'm back on lock

Dropped "Sailin' Da South", just to keep my name hot

Video got shot, MLK Boulevard

Three months 'fore that, caught a fucking murder charge

Nigga broke in my crib, shot my partna in the head

So I grabbed the chopper, left the bitch nigga dead

Instead of self defense, they tried to give me murder one

Three years in the Penn, homie that wasn't fun

Touched down on the streets, "Return of the Living Dead"

Another fifty thousand independent, get my bread

Helped Wreckshop, make bout 1.3

"Shinin' & Grindin", "Dirty 3rd", "City Under Siege"

Had Flip under my wing, Slim Thug too

And both them niggaz switched, like some homosexuals do

From "Wanna be a Baller", to "Getcha Hands Up"

You wanna fuck with me, you gotta get your grands up

Real niggaz stand up, fake niggaz hit the deck

Everyday Street Gangsta, I'm the epidemy of that

No holding me back, I'm part of God's plan

Angel in disquise, I walk in God's hands

And like I said befo', the devils wanna clip my wings

Immortal underdog, call me Constantine

Fuck the movie ring, it's real lifetime

Don't believe me, ask C-Murder ask Shyne

Rappers like 50, use some real gangstas mayn

I really had a murder charge, really moved the caine

Told to swang and bang, when I was only 17

I knew about syrup, pop trunks and screens

Nintendos in the dash, candy paint shining

Boys already know, I'm way mo' than grinding

So yeah, now you bitch niggaz know

What E.S.G. stand fo', that's my motherfucking intro nigga


[talking:]

Know I'm saying, E.S.G.

A legend in this shit, know I'm saying

This album right here, is dedicated 

To two special cats, my dog Nick Sholtz

And Matney on lock, let's get this money

What up Duke, smoke some'ing Junior