This is the story, of a young man, always held his own.
Moving dope is all he's ever known.

Holdin a nine so he can close his eyes, to dream of a better life.

His mama don't ever wanna smile no more.
Pushin a homie to the limits of the grind is blowin' smoke.

Servin' dimes, for better times;
Turn into pounds, of pushin loud.

Soon enough he's runnin the whole town, Money comin in heavy like a cash cow.

Had to put on homies so he can manage a disadvantage that placed him in a slanted reality,
and now it's knockin back askin him to handle it.

Whatchu gonna do? when you ain't worried about shit and the money's comin through.

He was 16, grindin just to be free man you can't knock it til' you felt financial suffering.

Now Bring it Back.

And I dont know if I can hold on no more, this is the only life that I know.
So Ride Slow.
And I dont know if I can hold on no more, this is the only life that I know.
So Ride Slow.

Yeah so he rides slow, hopin he don't choke.
Pistol in his lap everytime he's at the store.

Paranoia creeps and now it's knockin on the door.
The only time that he can get around is after 4, and uh,
5'0 is on the block more and more checking his spot.

At 17 it's hard to think that he'd be living this hot, but
see he needed all the stress that he compressed to formulate a progression that would assess the situation.

And look past his limitations.

Cause in the end we end up 6 Feet in the ground no hesitation.

So he left it all behind while he still had time,
took a shoebox full of twenties and applied it to his mind.

Yeah, he saw it all through a different light,
it's only called the trap if you continue to intertwine your EGO
with your selfish mindstate.

Yeah, Yeah.

Let me hear it.

And I dont know if I can hold on no more, this is the only life that I know.
So Ride Slow.
And I dont know if i can hold on no more, this is the only life that I know.
So Ride Slow.