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Description
He had game since he used to hoop at chattum
Neither the ghetto nor defenders could trap him
The stones had his back and they'd pat him
He was living a life they couldn't fathom
Colleges getting at him with all type of scholarships
Even if he went they knew he'd leave college quick
For the pros the one from the hood that was chose
The black rose that grew in the jungle
But humble stud still had rumble in his blood
Women all around giving him trouble love
You know the love when you up they down
Cause you wrap a ball they round
Your win is their crown
Dudes in the circle he known for years
Shared beers and cheers but chose different careers
when paper and fame came they ain't know how to react
Them same studs shot him in the back
Now that's black...maybe