[ Featuring Illah Dayz ]
Mad taxing, past tense the white boy Ed
He got f*cked up, check out the blues he had
Big supplier on the compound, news, he got spoons
Hot, plus got knocked out his ass balloons
Hands was holding dandies, owed money from candy he bought
Smoked the cost, now his anty is lost
He selling everything, niggas yelling, yo I want mines in doubles,
Boxed in ah bubble, paying cats foh they troubles,
Couldn't sleep right, feeling every night, the night,
He got bagged from killah's holding sharpened knives and pipes,
Yo ah week passed, Goons put his arm in ah cast,
He got cut bad, slashed from his neck to his ass,
Took his tv, trunk of cosmetics and his panasonic,
Shook his house, found five bags of chronic,
He on ice now for life, yo, should've thought twice,
Days from the world, but ya street dream is over,
You reap what you sow, ya street dream is over,
The price paid now in the grave, shit was cold bra, shit was cold bra
Mad intelligent, stay revelent like I'm cobra
Down twenty, I ain't want nothing but his honey
Told the kid, son, you can keep the money
Punanny and nanny goat coats, so just run me
Everything that belong to me, and if I'm wrong
Then I loan you a g, you be on the P's like clicia Keys
Paraplegic on the seas
On jet ski's, breeze, I'm colder than freeze
Yo the price paid, still catch me shoppin' at rite an aid
Read my book, turn the right page, you see trees and chicks at a light age
Fiends f*cked up, fam corrupt,
Life is a big cup, we f*cked!
Most of my niggas still stuck
Still pluck you like a duck though
My niggas nuts, going nutso
I put it in my writing, let my pen flow
From corner stores, whatever the streets blow
Whatevah we reach, we know
Yo, and let life blow
