Intro (Rick Ross)
Trill Entertainment, n***a
Where we keeps it trilla
Webbie, Ricky Ross. Streets gonna love this one
Verse 1: Webbie
The little soldier With nothing
Clear to see
Wasn't nobody handing him sh**
Riding around town glamour and glisten
You don't want my position
I'm spitting facts, couldn't relax
The whole time I had weights up on my back
Be black, gone back
I got pitchers on deck
They gave it to us seven flat
How many n***a's gonna rat
Check my tats
She left early then she supposed to, mayne
It had to be fair
Not me, the family and them, could pack the Madison Square
I had a career
I was supposed to be right back there with them
I owed it to Him
I know it I show it
Don't want to blow it
A poet
For the streets
Give me a beat I'mma roll it
I surely didn't believe in magic
But I knew I had it in Savage
It got crucial I ain't panic
And when y'all wanted I ran it
I remember when my Granny
Said anything was to happen
From slangin, hustlin, to trapping
To laying, praying, and jacking
And blowing on Grandaddy and all of my kids happy
Its a miracle
It seem like I'm dreaming
Somebody pinch me
Am I supposed to be in the spot that I'm in?
Is this really real?
It's a miracle
All these years
Am I really here?
Have I really lived what they call a miracle?
Verse 2: Birdman
How you shoot 50 clips
Put it in the air
Mean mug them n***as
And have no fear
Play the game with the stripes,
Put it in his life
Ten on the mic
n***a do it same night
It's a miracle
The way I bend them corners on em
Get up early on em
Get this money on em
A miracle
A lot I bought on
Crib I paid on
Things I've got on
A miracle
Fresh crush the diamond ice
Place in one price
Did it for one night
A miracle
I done lived the high life
Shined in high lights
Did it in gunfights
A miracle
n***a it was hell we came in
Money done come in
Hell we went in
A miracle, n***a
No time for lying homie
Time for crying homie
Time for dying homie
Chorus
Verse 3: Rick Ross
It's truly a miracle
Your boy is still alive
Cuz I was selling boy in '95
Riding with my boys
Dealin dope, gettin high
Crackers trying to give me time and we ain't talking five
n***as talk fly so that pistol by my side
My baby mama f**ing all my homies on the sly
I see it all through the corner of a n***a's eye
So I keep my shades on and my face up at the sky
Pistols get the power
Snitchin is for cowards
I got plasmas in the shower
And my b**h is snorting powder (I'm a G)
My life a movie got rubber uzi's in my jacuzzi
You'll think I'm Biggie
I'm bumping Juicy with several groupies
I got beamerz and benzes, b**h
They all on deuces
I got the product
And when you drop it, it never loses
Pray or get preyed on
k**ers get prayed for
If this a dream
I pray I never wake up
Chorus