To take all those wrongs and make them right
I'll be your companion ,your friend and your guide
Woodstock though, couple bands on the floor
Your eyes it's my paradise, your
That's your soul along with your principles and your morals
See, all my life i was raised by a lot of criminals
Separating your body from your face then eating your name,
Then dipping with the fucking pen to go sin again
I can say ghettoest ‘cause i come from where metal spit
Your lyres are cheat so hold your pen open your book-let
Your gonna gratify
Tears that our fore fathers cry
Lucky seven probably poppa
Leave your running to your mamma,
Out in the district they selling water and buying pistols
I'm fittin' shit, your hatin' it, your littleness, your genitals.
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