My structure in these raps is aimin straight to excel
Where my soldiers at? put your pistols in the air
Now you finna cut your hair, you waiting to excel
To drag his lying ass back to his padded cell
I know i'm forcing myself to escape my cell
I'm like the man on mars; i'm high as hell
Tactical, my brains cell are individual
When i talk about money all you see is the struggle
Violence, crime, famine, lack of structure, poverty,
I'm a g, and this is something you can't see
I thank you for making me who i am starting with every little cell
I turtle-shell niggasin harold and bell, niggaseat you like lunch, before the bell
I got styles sick as hell, sicker than sickle cell anemia
Inside of the cage cause i'm a motherfuckin' zebra
It's fucking immaculate, the way your daughter smacking dicks
Suddenly i see a structure of some sort... blood and sweat drips...
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