Guillotine aqua-marine, the task is addictive as nicotine,
The microphone fiend, we used to chase after the leaves of the green,
Wither it smokes or the mulah
we call cream,
Just another soul shattering dreams,
American gangsta theme,
Still tryna build myself, since there's no I in team,
I learn to create my own thing,
Bit into the coin, now all come gather around and join,
Broke beyond the six figures mark,
Once trump took office, and cleared the benches at the park,
I light a spark, to anoint ya mental joints,
Keep my thoughts on point,
Black when i get the thinkin, let the rhyme sink in, entice those non-believin',
Im  theivin',
the lost souls led 'em into the valleys scrolls, down the brick roads,
It two ways to choose, wider the way or the narrower the views,
Skipped the news, they try to keep ya mind confused, I blew the fuse,
Holding the olives and the branches, to slimer my chances,
Only advances, more spiritual war, folks too deeply cut, to heal the sore,
The head honcho in charge, its the return of the geechee, like the ol' black sarg,
Tote the barge,
**** lifting that bail, i just sit back sip on a Canadian ginger ale,
Welcome to Hell, visions two point O, its no redemption to even the score,
Either ya rich or poor, since the first ******, its been a thirst for gore,
Like Al, be sure day and night I try to write,
Cant sleep at night,
cuz ya cells in an excite,