It was hard growing up in the hood
Spice lane Swat Texas lost but misunderstood
Being a fatherless child in a generation of bastards Taught early to give your faith to God and your money to pastors
caught up with this nigga
he beggin for his life
please don't shoot me we brothers this ain't right
I'm looking at his eyes he's alive but he is a dead man
turn your ass over execution style in the back of the head
our words are empty hollow bleatings of a mental crutch
They're open-festered indigestion with a velvet touch
An ether-eating Eskimo would gag upon your sight
Convulsed into oblivion from laughter or from fright
A coma with a sweet aroma is your only dream
Malignant with the misconception that a grunt can gleam
Your lichen-covered corpuscles are filthy to my fist
Infection is your finest flower, mildewed in the mist.
Baby girl ya so damn fine tho
Im tryna know if I can hit it from behind tho
I’m sippin on u like some fine wine tho
An when it’s over I press rewind tho
