The fact that I've been told to take this more serious makes me curious
Delerious to that same fact, matter of fact
I really wish I could go back
To a time where a rhyme was something to do to pass the time
Instead of being the valve that releases so much steam
In the hopes it copes my self-esteem
Born son raised bastard
Hear my story on many a block
Young man slanging the rock, many are shot
Get a little bit of money, act funny, and get spotted
All of a sudden you're caught
And it's almost better if it's the DEA that gets you
Because if the streets catch you you're DOA, no rescue
God blessed you
With the ability to sell anything to anyone
But the Devil showed you how to turn it into funds
A gumbo pot of rocks, cash, hoes, and guns
Over a bed of lies
Who's ready for dinner time?
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