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