tired of all the drugs and alcohol abuse
misuse of the pen,
addicted to the pad;
Wish I would
have listened
to my old dad;
wouldn't have ventured
down the wrong path,
stubborn in my ways
thinking I had it made,
all the girlie's jocking
because my hair had waves,
on the avenue rocking the
freshest J's;
clocking for the cheese
scheming to stay paid
can't sleep at night
because of the fire of my rage
burning in my eyes
10 blunts to stay high
wake in the morning
surprised I'm still alive;
Looking for some breakfast
not before I load my weapon,
gloc on my hip
knife in my boat,
spoon in my hand
eating my fruit loops;
trapped in the maze
surviving the rat-race;
Clean-up nice
count my cash twice,
Hit the boulevard
hustling for my life,
Ratchet hood-rats
fighting to give me wife;
but I'm focused on my paper
planning my next caper,
hit the studio
Yo' turn up my fader,
tell 'em press record
To capture my vocal-cord,
voice lace the track
Audio cardiac;
Thanks to my pops
for blessing me with the facts...
rules of the game
forever remain the same,
stay true to your word,
and forever learning and growing...