Caught in the hustler

Verse 1)
they say the odds against me are crooked than impossible
like i was born with a whole in my heart, its an obstacle
im left to die by the doctors in the childrens hospital
but i never lose hope, success is psychological
the world is volital and the street is my education
shaping the nation like the blueprints of a maison
while shawshank record deals get you raped on occasion
so im focused on my economic situation
im like the little kids on tv that dig through the trash
i hustle regardless of the way you talk shit and laugh
a lot of niggas (?) but they dont know the math cus they mind is narrower than the righteous path
its funny how on the blockniggas'll
kill you for cash but never raise the gun and cry out "freedom at last"
the cold war's over but the world is still
getting colder atlas walking through the projects with the hood on my shoulders
i would like to raise my children to grow to be soldiers but then a general would decide when they
life would be over
so i work hard until my personality split, like the
black panthers into the bloods and the crips
they said i'd never be shit, but now i sit and reminisce
(?) flippin through genesis, ignorance
is venemous and it murders the soul, spreading like a virus running red but out of control (Chorus)
so if i should ever fall and get caught in a hustle,
let 'em know that i died while i faught in the struggle
from the hood rats to rich kids lost in a bubble spray painted on the streets headed to subway tunnels
write it down and remember that we never gave in, the mind of a child is where the revolution begins
so if the solution has never been to look in yourself, how is it that you expect to find it anywhere else

(Verse 2)
Immortal Technique in the streets back on the hustle
cuz three strikes'll get you life for stuffng cracks in a duffel
upstate behind steel gates attacked in a scuffle
razor blades stuck on the side of pencils hacked to your muscle
but the emptiness is what bleeds you to death when it cuts you
and its the lawyers not the inmates scheming to f*** you
trying to fight the system from inside eventually corrupts you
but thats what you get when you put a corporation above you
and it's the people that love you that seem to hurt you the most
sometimes when they die you find yourself cursing they ghost
but you make success nobody delivers your fates sometimes you give and you take since prehistoric vertebrates crawled out of the lakes
and thats the truth about life, what to do with the ghetto and the car rims or your ice
cuz even though we survive through the struggle that made us we still look at ourselves through the eyes of people that hate us
but ima make it regardless of the trugged up charges and semi-automatic barrages that empty your cartridge
post-traumatically scar kids and try to be brave cuz niggas back stab eachother just to try to get paid
turn cannibals like knights during the crusades, afraid of responsibility addicted to greed
beating they girl purposefully losing the seed as if we bound to the destiny we use to recieve

(Chorus)
so if i should ever fall and get caught in a hustle, let 'em know that i died while i faught in the struggle
from the hood rats to rich kids lost in a bubble spray painted on the streets headed to subway tunnels
write it down and remember that we never gave in, the mind of a child is where the revolution begins
so if the solution has never been to look in yourself, how is it that you expect to find it anywhere else

i use to wonder why people dont believe in theyselves and then i saw the way they portrayed us to everyone else
they cursed us, they only see the worst in ourselves, blind to the fact the whole time we were hurting ourselves(x2)