Lyrics:

I'm tryin' to keep my aces and my deuces all together
I'm thinkin' of self-murder, I know I won't live forever
This chronic got me 'noid, I need to get a job
But instead I wanna sell dope, hang on a rope, and steady mobb
I'm wakin' up in the mornin' thinkin' of death as I break out in a cold sweat
I'm havin' dreams of a whole family put to rest
Visions of a dead man, body bags
And all the youngsters gettin' their cap peeled over colored rags
I write about murder and death 'cause that's all in the hood
Comin' up strong ballin' crack, yo, G, it's all good
Describin' a way of life that they don't understand, G
So I'ma keep breakin' it down until they understand me
You see it's real, G, and jealousy it roam my block
That's why I'm never leavin' the house without my plastic Glock
'Cause if they want it they'll take it and kill for it
And if it worth sum'n then blood gettin' spilled for it
My mother thinks I'm goin' crazy
And when I leave the house she just stares out the window
I think I'm bein' followed every time I leave my home
Havin' these fatal thoughts of gettin' chrome to my dome

18—
187, me say the murder, the murder he wrote
18—
187, me say the murder, the murder he wrote
Blaow

Did things up in the past that I regret at 22
And when I hit 23, I hope I'm livin' well as you
It's good to be alive in '93, I guess that's so
But if I gotta go, I gotta go, I gotta go
I guess I'm just a soldier with a song out of the streets, black
Stressin' of that chronic sack, but I feel death is knockin' at my back
Sleepwalkin' with my pistol in the middle of the night
Wakin up inside my hooptie holdin' my Glock full of fright
Violent in this art, that's only because it's comin' from a G to the heart
Got friends that have died and I mourn for their families
Bringin' flowers to they graves every time I get a chance, G
Nuthin' like a old school homie from the hood
Which are right or wrong, doin dirt, doin' good
And now I know inside I'll never see my boy again
I find myself always pourin' brew out for my friends

18—
187, me say the murder, the murder he wrote
18—
187, me say the murder, the murder he wrote
Blaow

I'm keepin' all my pictures from my homies up in jail
If I told you what they did, it would probably turn your pale
I used to hang with killers and I didn't even know
Wrestlin with my homies as a youngster age four
Now half of them is dead and the rest is in the jailhouse
Writin' to me monthly, givin' they homies somethin' to rap about
Tell me do my music, and don't trip off what they say
Thinkin' to myself I might just be in there one day
Some stayed about the big house and still slangin' yay'
And now they stayin' under ditchin' the feds everyday
Tryin' to wash their money they wanna go on tour, G
Get into the business, learn about the industry
Try to help em out, doin' everything I can
I still gotta worry bout the next jealous man
My homies gettin' robbed, so they rob somebody else
You can see it never stops, let that story tell itself
I'm walkin' with my head down, pervin' in the rain
Thinkin' deep, askin' myself am I insane?
I think about that daily and I'm leavin' on that note
And that's the definition of the 187 that he wrote

18—
187, me say the murder, the murder he wrote
18—
187, 187 the murder he wrote
Blaow