And my minds being matched
To reds i ain't know how to act
When i write rhymes i go blind and let the lord do his thing
Me, on my knees, praying to stop being a slave and waiting,
Swallow the cinnamon, i'mma scribble this sin and shit
To being a being and beating the back roads and being #it
Of being knocked out, and soon a nurse is checking your pulse,
Knew he was working for the fed's, same crime, different trials
Then speed it up, this playing in the background
To the sound of you being gagged and bound
And closest thing you get to god is being dead and gone
I ain't seen my lady in days, i been out on these streets so long
Living life all for you just aint true being white dosent change the word to the mike
You headin' to his car for some sexi pass by, can't hold back tears inside
From where they take them old beats and turn em into news
‘cuz being honest and moral doesn’t sell to the mindless youth,
GO BACK TO WRITE A SONG ABOUT ANOTHER TOPIC !
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