Run tha streetz with my name on the breeze,
Ghost in the alley, Pac’s heartbeat still knocks,
Concrete remembers every gun-blast talk,
Mothers clutch babies, dreams fold like socks.
Neon baptizes the night in red,
Hustlers write prayers on cigarette thread.
I glide through the echo, bandana held high,
Let the revolution rumble—thug life don’t die.