| The fast lane, half heart, half money | |
| Ain't nobody smilin, ain't nothin funny | |
| Raise the risk, raise the profit | |
| And can't nobody stop it | |
| Unless your game's weak | |
| So baby, don't sleep | |
| The fast lane, half heart, half money | |
| Ain't nobody smilin, ain't nothin funny | |
| Raise the risk, raise the profit | |
| And can't nobody stop it | |
| Unless your game's weak | |
| So player, don't sleep | |
| [ verse 1 ] | |
| The streets crawl with ill niggas on the block | |
| Goin hand in hand | |
| Leanin in and out of sedans | |
| Pumpin crack dreams to crack fiends for a fee | |
| Their dream is to re-up to a ki | |
| Cops watch the influx of dope | |
| Through a telescope | |
| Snitches in the game | |
| Give the young g's names | |
| Bitches on the jock | |
| Of the hustlers on the block | |
| Jump from gee to gee | |
| Similar to a flea | |
| Suck the blood out, or in this case the dough | |
| Roll with the blow till considered a hoe | |
| Babies are born and pawned off to grandmama | |
| The bitch ain't done, she still lives for the drama | |
| Lookin for another baller | |
| To hit and never call her | |
| All in vain | |
| Life in the lane | |
| A new crew of hookers on the track from up north | |
| Vice cops, they watch em stroll back and forth | |
| They take a pay-off | |
| Or a blow job just to lay off | |
| The lane's no joke | |
| Yo, you players stay broke | |
| A ghetto garage makes a nice laboratory | |
| Pcp and crystal meth, wars of glory | |
| End of story, gotta watch my back myself | |
| Or else they'll find my body layin on a coroner shelf | |
| It's the lane | |
| [ chorus ] | |
| [ verse 2 ] | |
| Gees take the game on the road to minnesota | |
| Supermarket's all sold out on baking soda | |
| Gangbangers start to understand the dope game fast | |
| Kidnap the drug dealers for the ransom cash | |
| Gotta represent, what you say you are, that's a star | |
| Feds got a homing device on your car | |
| That made you easy to follow to denver, colorado | |
| Birds you had, 12 now you got a l | |
| Crack babies born in the hospitals cryin | |
| Drive-by shootings can't end, kids are dyin | |
| The cream is the ultimate goal | |
| Gots to roll | |
| Till my cash flow's mega | |
| Baller not a beggar | |
| Bitches workin plastic with the fake id's | |
| Life in the lane, stackin up g's | |
| Chop shops taggin up benzes and beamers | |
| Crack spots boilin full kilos in beakers | |
| Damn, the game's quicker than shit, don't slip | |
| Cause bet your life there'll be another hustler checkin yo grip | |
| It's the lane | |
| [ chorus ] | |
| [ verse 3 ] | |
| Brother on parole need a quick lick to come up | |
| The score went bad, now he's back stuck | |
| Bitches settin niggas up jacked and waxed | |
| Small-time workers movin weight in a g ride lac | |
| Don't talk on your cellular, your phone is tapped | |
| Don't check the rear view, there's no turnin back | |
| It's the lane, now you're in it, hit the gas and mash | |
| Through the land of the hardcore hoes and cash | |
| Jackers and robbers, hustlers and clockers | |
| Everybody'll squeal, take the l or the deal | |
| Yo, spin the wheel, for the cops you're a meal | |
| Tailor suits gator boots make the fly hoes kneel | |
| But if you miss, my friend, guess what you win | |
| A one-way ticket to the federal state pen | |
| It's the lane you chose, you fill your shit, ride rolls | |
| High-priced clothes, baddest fuckin hoes | |
| Anything goes, there's no limit, just mash | |
| The cops will be there when you crash | |
| [ chorus ] |
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