And Even Though I Act Crazy I

It's A Struggle For Every Young Black Man. You Know How It Is, Only God Can Judge Us.

Hoping They Bury Me With Ammunition, Weed, And Shells. Just In Case.

No Longer Living In Fear, My Pistol Close In Hand, Convinced This Is My Year.

The Ground Is The Symbol For The Poor People; The Poor People Is Gonna Open Up This Whole World And Swallow Up The Rich People. It's Gonna Be Like - There Might Be Some Cannibalism Out This Mother. They Might Eat The Rich.

Give Me A Paper And Pen, So I Can Write About My Life Of Sin. A Couple Of Bottles Of Gin, In Case I Don't Get In.