Poor Boy Blues
J.T. Burks Lyrics
Jump to: Overall Meaning ↴ Line by Line Meaning ↴
Born on the curb something
That the ghetto made
Jump off the coast selling dope
In the 7th grade
Where I'm from you wasn't shit
If you wasn't paid
I watched the cocaine spread like AIDS
Task force raids playing with AKs trying to
Get out the projects
Nigga get outa line they pop
Him like some latex
Practice counting money like a
Nigga practice safe sex
Ever since I was introduced to ice cream
Always kept a choppa, a connect
And a triple-beam
Pulling all nighters I never
Was into chasing dreams
Hit a nigga up like the
Did my little cousin Reem
Captain of the cream team
Grinding under the full moon
These niggas snitching that's why
They faker than cartoons
I put them in the air
Like a fucking helium balloon
The whips is new, the banger is used
Keep stacking on them I don't
Catch a D-boy blues
Keep dumping on they ass till
The clips is gone
Hold down my set nigga rep my home
Why the first of the month my
Favorite time of the year?
Sitting on the fiend porch till
The mail get here
I hustle hard, you bitch niggas pathetic
Mad cause I'm collecting ten-thousand
In credit sale
I'm just like Gregory I get it like my pappy
For years I wasn't happy growing
Up in the projects nigga my money used to be
Little like an insect
I turned into a Racist only
Cause I love this green
Graduated from digitals no more triple-beams
Those were the finer things
That came from Peruvian
If you don't like my lifestyle then
Fuck you nigga sue me then
You wanna fuck with the game
Then we'll chop you in
Go against the flame motherfucker
You will never win
RIP Baby Chains, RIP Lil' Twin
I'ma keep it stacking till I
See hopefully y'all again
Throw your asses back in as soon
As you get out the pen
The whips is new, the banger is used
Keep stacking on them I don't
Catch a D-boy blues
Keep dumping on they ass till
The clips is gone
Hold down my set nigga rep my home
I've seen em go
Selling grams to collecting cans
I just pray to God that he
Help me be a better man
Cause when it come to the
Game nigga I overstand
Only thing on my mind be them rubber bands
Learn how to cook grams
Coke taste like candy yams
Little nigga moving with a 30 dick
Told the man he could front the whole brick
If worse come to worse nigga
I ain't bringing back shit
This is for a broke bitch
Class is in session i could show you how to
Stack money in a depression
Live Wire Records ain't going
Through a recession
Counting my blessings before I
Hit the street tonight
Hoping I don't ever end up on a crack pipe
Stuck in the game nigga
Still selling all white
Cypress Village where I learned
The whips soft
And 10th Street niggas where I got it all off
The whips is new, the banger is used
Keep stacking on them I don't
Catch a D-boy blues
Keep dumping on they ass till
The clips is gone
Hold down my set nigga rep my home
The lyrics to J.T. Burks's song "Poor Boy Blues" paint a vivid picture of a life shaped by the harsh realities of growing up in the ghetto. The opening lines describe a lack of formal education, with the corner serving as a makeshift school where the singer learned the ways of the streets. It highlights the environment that molded him and pushed him towards selling drugs at a young age, illustrating the pressure to make money in an environment where success is often equated with material wealth. The comparison of cocaine spreading like AIDS speaks to the destructive nature of drugs in their community, with hustlers constantly facing the threat of law enforcement and violence while striving to escape the projects.
The second verse delves into the daily struggles and motivations of the singer, depicting a relentless pursuit of money and status in a world where survival hinges on street smarts and a willingness to take risks. The reference to collecting ten-thousand in credit sales juxtaposed with the singer's upbringing in poverty underscores the desire for financial security and success. The lyrics also touch on themes of loyalty and remembrance, with nods to fallen comrades and a commitment to representing one's home turf amidst ongoing challenges and dangers.
The third verse explores the consequences and dilemmas of a life entrenched in drug dealing, acknowledging the toll it takes on both the individual and the community. The singer reflects on the cycle of criminal activity and the struggles to break free from it, expressing a desire for redemption and a yearning for a better future. The vivid imagery of learning to cook drugs and the allure of quick money contrast sharply with the harsh realities of addiction and the constant threat of falling into self-destructive behavior.
In the final verse, the lyrics convey a sense of resignation and resilience, with the singer acknowledging the risks and uncertainties of their chosen path while finding solace in the familiarity and routines of their surroundings. The repetition of stacking money and holding down their set signifies a sense of duty and determination to persevere despite the odds stacked against them. The references to specific locations within the neighborhood serve as a reminder of the roots and experiences that have shaped the singer's identity and struggles, capturing the complexities of life in the streets and the enduring spirit of survival against all odds.
Line by Line Meaning
No diploma, the corner was my high school
Lack of formal education led me to learn survival skills on the streets
Born on the curb something That the ghetto made
Grew up in poverty, a product of the harsh environment
Jump off the coast selling dope In the 7th grade
Started illegal activities at a very young age
Where I'm from you wasn't shit If you wasn't paid
In my neighborhood, success was measured by money
I watched the cocaine spread like AIDS
Witnessed the destructive impact of drugs in the community
Hustlers trying to survive the Task force raids playing with AKs trying to Get out the projects
Struggling to escape poverty and law enforcement in dangerous ways
Nigga get outa line they pop Him like some latex
Violent consequences for those who act out of line
Practice counting money like a Nigga practice safe sex
Focused on making money, like practicing safe behavior
Ever since I was introduced to ice cream Always kept a choppa, a connect And a triple-beam
Started dealing drugs early, always had weapons and tools for the trade
Pulling all nighters I never Was into chasing dreams
Working hard with no time for aspirations beyond survival
Hit a nigga up like the Did my little cousin Reem Captain of the cream team
Successful in the drug trade, like a leader of profits
Grinding under the full moon These niggas snitching that's why They faker than cartoons
Working under the cover of night while facing betrayal from informants
I put them in the air Like a fucking helium balloon
Eliminating threats with no remorse, like releasing a balloon into the sky
The whips is new, the banger is used Keep stacking on them I don't Catch a D-boy blues
Investing in new cars, using old guns, and staying focused to avoid trouble in the drug trade
Keep dumping on they ass till The clips is gone Hold down my set nigga rep my home
Continue using weapons until they're empty to protect my territory and reputation
Why the first of the month my Favorite time of the year? Sitting on the fiend porch till The mail get here
Happy payday is the best time, eagerly waiting for money to arrive
I hustle hard, you bitch niggas pathetic Mad cause I'm collecting ten-thousand In credit sale
I work tirelessly while others envy my success in drug deals
I'm just like Gregory I get it like my pappy For years I wasn't happy growing Up in the projects nigga my money used to be Little like an insect
Taking after my father in making money, but felt trapped and poor in the projects
I turned into a Racist only Cause I love this green Graduated from digitals no more triple-beams
Focused on making money, leaving behind illegal activities involving drugs
Those were the finer things That came from Peruvian
Luxuries obtained through successful drug trafficking
If you don't like my lifestyle then Fuck you nigga sue me then
Defiant attitude towards those who criticize my choices
You wanna fuck with the game Then we'll chop you in Go against the flame motherfucker You will never win
Warning against challenging the drug trade, facing inevitable consequences
RIP Baby Chains, RIP Lil' Twin I'ma keep it stacking till I See hopefully y'all again Throw your asses back in as soon As you get out the pen
Paying respects to fallen comrades and staying strong until reunited
I've seen em go Selling grams to collecting cans I just pray to God that he Help me be a better man
Witnessing others struggle from selling drugs to desperate measures, seeking redemption
Cause when it come to the Game nigga I overstand Only thing on my mind be them rubber bands
Understanding the drug trade, money is the primary focus
Learn how to cook grams Coke taste like candy yams Little nigga moving with a 30 dick Told the man he could front the whole brick
Skilled in drug preparation and distribution, making bold deals to advance
If worse come to worse nigga I ain't bringing back shit This is for a broke bitch
Prepared to take extreme measures in poverty, no turning back
Class is in session i could show you how to Stack money in a depression
Experienced in thriving financially even in tough times
Live Wire Records ain't going Through a recession Counting my blessings before I Hit the street tonight
Thriving business despite economic downturns, being thankful before risky activities
Hoping I don't ever end up on a crack pipe Stuck in the game nigga Still selling all white
Avoiding drug addiction while remaining committed to illegal activities
Cypress Village where I learned The whips soft And 10th Street niggas where I got it all off
Different areas shaped my criminal skills and success
Lyrics © O/B/O APRA AMCOS
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