Mine & Yours

[Verse 1]
This chicks works for fifty dollars a session
She hangs around street corners, fucking is her profession
She works every day, and every night
But even getting to the streets is a fight
In spite of this, her projects are getting infested
She gets neglected, selling her body only to be disrespected
Because she can't hang with a gang, or sell cane
She wears a small jacket, and speaks with a slang
She has one daughter, and one son
And they both depend on her income
Besides them two, love she don't get none
She's encircled by needles, starvation, and guns
Her apartment is swissed by bullet holes, her hood's crime is outdone
But in the long run, she ain't getting nothing
Everybody wants to be somebody, like she wants to be something
Raped at youth, and ever since she's been struggling

[Hook]
The world is in your hand
Make it everything you can

[Verse 2]
The time for her are too hard to continue
She asks her self all the time what has she gotten into
The bittersweet streets are struck with poverty
She's living on the dime, and has to feed two war babies
This lady is living in a state of terror
She knows rock bottom because all her life she's been there
She could get killed in error, or get raped again
Through the days the devils change shapes and blends
Giving head to men, she doesn't know any better
She can't do much, she dreading on a fetter
Now she gotta worry about something called aids
If she was young forever, she'd do it for the decades
She can barely decide between living in poverty or to commit suicide
She's cried, swallowed her pride, lied to bible scriptures
She sees the TV loaded with sex, violence, and glitter
Reflecting her life but in a more luxurious way
Her work is not for the gain or pay, but to survive through the day
The paranoia stains and pains her brain
As the days come, she notices her life lane is getting strained

[Hook]

[Verse 3]
She can't find a decent part time job
Other brothers peel caps, throw jabs, and rob
The project is marked by violence, It's an ugly subculture
Where streets run loose with dealers and hustlers
Young kids stealing jewelry, like livestock to rustlers
Her front door witnesses dark nights, and crack rocks
It hears the sounds of poverty, and mac shots
She's only doing what pays her
If she's lucky she could get a guy who's rides a benz, and wears a blazer
A man wearing sparking black dress shoes
Maybe a man who's breath is marked by booze
She's illegal, the streets are her workplace
It's getting more dangerous, now she packs a twenty two just in case