its been doomsday since the first day
when at first they,
left us for dead with brains wasted space in the head dry mouff walkin round thirstaay,
livin the life of what ever the next niggas shirt say,
like, we cant think for our selves,
but little did they know my riddles bit them slow,
str8 from the never monotonous
Mountainous ridge of Puerto Rico,
the only fat bastid that lasted & nvr acted the part
shits stood real from the start like when he pounds his fist on the heart,
then its 2 fingers up- close in unity,
and if i throw a middle finger up, then we close with eulogy,
rest in piece to the once beloved,
to some one some where he was the one he trusted,
untill he got dusted,
punched the cop in the face
then his blood covered the inmates shank and got rusted,

no room for tetanus shots with his gelatinous ass,
if im low on the cash
im baggin the grass faster than my lead foot hittin the gass,
FUCK A COP, altho they seem to always harass,
thats why ya can mostly always catch me loungin in black,
mid summer with the burner, fourth of july,
underground with the Tremor wavin hawks in the sky,
still with the rocks on the eye,
stank breath from that morning blunt
all done givem whats left like how we always stunt,
my tracks always bump, like raw cane habitual users on that morning slump,
assed out like an ongoing dump,
taco bell more expensive than the gas at the pump,
this me thinkin out side the bun,
like i just came in the house to write this from being out side with bums...