Yo, this aint no fantasy scheme,
Or to get, shakes like Hakeem,
Smoke and mirros, coke theme,
Its like Scarface,
Mixed with Wus cream,
Catch my drift, i bet i could make the game shift,
Check it,
All yall hear is murders on the records,
more murders,
But scared to ****, the ones,
Who really murdered us,
Get it, naw forget it,
Ill probably be admitted,
Looked over and *******,
Cuz most aint really with it,
Talking guns,
Like its father and sons,
But get mad,
When the system says they done,
They don't want no fun,
So go ahead, and flash ya gun,
Youngin,
You aint peepin the hungerin',
That the beast,
Loves to feast on,
Aggravated with aggression,
While negative *****,
Seems like, the only ambition,
Spoken true in fruiton,
See the rich, getting richer,
And the poors, aint peepin the picture,
Cant have ties to Christ,
And at the same, try to rock ya ice,
While eating a slice,
Of the devil pie,
See the glare in they eye,
Dark *** ****, like when they got hit,
On some gay, ritual ****,
Ya favorite rapper, ain't really Innocent,
Just look at, how they rise,
And you spitting the real,
Ya wont rise,
I used to wanna be a fly guy,
Roll with my peeps,
In the pinto, of a drive by,
But saw the hurt, in they family eyes,
But saw smiles in the enemies that lied,
Its alot of Denzel, playing with the cartel,
Up the community, but at the same time making hell,
How can i dwell,
In the flames, of earth, if im been cursed since my birth,
