taste of what I got.

Yo.

And for those that's not scared To raise they own a basement Stay blown so much stress I'ma just up and get a vest Ain't best hit your rest like a meteorite

till the media strike and reporters go home.

I don't know.

Maybe it's just me.

Maybe I'm no good.

go back home, throw on the hood and get it like they get it.

But see, we got a problem.

I don't

And I ain't got no problems laying down like carpet come around like my

revolving, acting like they all in McQueen don't know me.

Pressure stay deep like an ocean reef.

to be over east on some ivories apartment luxuries run with me through fields of terror

Concrete barrier, that's how I feel.

That's how I sleep under the moon.

Real pressure bus pipes.

Docs talked about blood pressures up high.

Next thing I know, the feds at the door for a robbery.

I've been back in looking at years of jail housing, and I ain't heard since

every time i pick up the phone i think it clicks paranoid skits

life like this but i passed that stage like a masquerade and i'm still here pour beer on the

day now he smoke and he never got a strategy snakes don't rattle me i'll put you on my misery

I hit the trees for my ancestors.

Life is a gunfight.

Test the man's essence.

Where June at?

My right-hand man must have slipped through the cracks.

I miss you, dog, but for real, you

I guess every man feel like you gotta move on.

It's hard as hell.

I need a mill and a bank.

For that, I need my will and a shake.

Plus the shell and the tag My girl's late and she don't act right either For that I hit the cinsemiller like a heavy lifter

From my door to yours is long distance.

Modern day peasants, life is restless.

And they don't understand until I got a gun in here.

Awesome.

Yo, I'm running like Cunningham.

Chips on my shoulders.

Turn to broken bones.

Slip by a soldier.

Turn to broken homes, by way of open tombs and last rites.

Last night, glass pipes reflect from my headlights.

In a zoo of dead light.

Brad and even the birds fight.

Feel like I'm living third strike.

And I realized I was the man when the headline read.

13-year-old man dead, rest for Sean Peace to my first born, heart torn Bleed purple, war's on

Cash and we're not getting poured on.

Oh!