Me and the fellas on the block with the dank and drank

Downing 40's, kicking back, and it just made us thank

About the hard times, and about all the players that died

And I just can't forget the look in my partner's mother's eyes

As she held him as he passed on

Because a brother was heartless, came through and got his blast on

Bullets from a Chevy riddled my little partner

16 years old and he caught 5 hot ones

Four to the body, one to his head

But your tears can't bring him back, moms, your son is dead

Nobody lays a brother like his mother

But what do you expect when you raise a child in the gutter?

And she swears he ain't never hurt nodoby

But he's laying all floppy with 5 bullets in his body, damn

And that ain't all good

But chalk it up as just another driveby in my hood



Just another driveby, another driveby

Just another driveby in my hood [x4]



Woke up early, stretching and yawning

But there's a dark cloud over this Monday morning

Another funeral, another dead player

And a lotta fake busters, acting like they care

But I feel it in my heart

Cause when he died, he ripped the whole damn deuce apart

Now everybody's all mixed up

Before the love of money, we all gots to stand tough

And he thought he had a down bitch but she wasn't

Now that he's dead, she's sleeping with his cousin

But off to the funeral I go

My hearts hurting so cause I just can't let it go

And his son is too young to understand

That his dad is dead, no longer a living man

But for little Bruce it's all good

And it's just another driveby in my hood



Just another driveby, another driveby

Just another driveby in my hood [x4]



Late night in the car in front of the house

Smoking dank and talking what players talk about

A close friend to me

He was cool to everybody, wouldn't think he had an enemy

A sad case of mistaken identity

Causes me to say R.I.P. to plan B

A.K.A. Jesse Hall

To Angie, Pam, and Mona, I love you all

R.I.P. to my nigga Art from the Groom

I see you later, if not soon

Because you know, a player never really knows

When the angel of death come knocking at his door

So swing low, chariot swing

But life must end, like all good things

To my son Lazarus, you probably would have been a killer

Rest in peace, daddy loves you little nigga

Toke and Pokey, little Ann, Take, and Earl

Rest in Peace, we love y'all and fuck the world

To my homie Fred Mo, we love you and it's all good

Just another driveby in my hood



Just another driveby, another driveby

Just another driveby in my hood [x4]