What up Sicka good looks..Bloody crooks, dimes with exotic looks, ghetto chefs letting the cocaine cook..Cops look at us sideways, block sweeps, and project raids.Burned buildings abandoned, Government profits off the drug plaque..Genocide, brainwash, common ghetto rage..Afros, braids, waves, dreadlocks, and fades..Mercedes, beamers, and Suv's sitting on chrome blades..Runaways become sex slaves, bull-shit jobs pay minimum wage..Someone got hit with the guage in the face..murders, robberies, and wakes..Driveby's, wiseguys, the goodfella ways..Beatdowns, li'l shorties sent to penals..Emcee's write, and freestyle, men molesting a child..frowns, smiles, curses, arguemts, and hearses..What rappers spits the wackest verses, niggas snatching purses..doctors, nurses, cousins, aunts, and uncles..Shorties with removed tonsils walking in the rain rocking a poncho..young hoes, old pimps, everyday is an event..car windows with the tints, drug dealers sitting doing plays on the bench..
My evidence, my own testament, written on wood
Twelve tribes layin at the head of corners in hoods
Last edited by J.T.S.; 03-05-2008 at 10:55 PM.