Wrap around 'til they hit the ground and they hear a sound
That plague the families, lack of structure, it's a dumping ground,
I smoke the greenest of medicine till the government let us win
Due to the lack of substance like marijuana suppression.
You wonder how it feels to walk a mile inside tha shoes
Children in 3rd world countries dying from a lack of medical tools//
I'm tired of missing the skills that i lack.
Pump, fake, jumpshot, ball hit the back
Manic and panic, attack your lack of attachment/
And i ain't really give a fuck, it was like a nigga rushed
Like you never get right? sort of like a black sheep
The kind of stuff im pouring makes the bandits go to sleep,
Of which we lack muscle.
A criminal grind mean hustle
Lack execution i fail but no conclusion in need of a revolution
The outskirts distribute my vision contributing to the burns i position
GO BACK TO WRITE A SONG ABOUT ANOTHER TOPIC !
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