Jailed fo' life (*plp peep all ma work, and reply)
 

once again, grimey won, blood shot eyez ya'll know tha scene/
smoke penetrated ma clothes, two-tone hat -to- ma jeans/
vodka stains on shirt from tha once full cup/
enraged inside, tha first nigga i saw i held up/
ma crew surrouding, heart pounding, i had tha shotgun/
blew shells up in his chest, left his whole body numb/
stood over his body, still stoned, left tha brotha in tha cold/
actually i left tha brotha like a golf course, eighteen holes/
Right in that moment just ruined, what 13 un-caught years/
ma high still dwelling, nigga yellin, siren invaded ma ears/
Looked like tha victor, but felt like tha loser/
cuffed up, eyes still red, ridin' in tha back of a po' cruiser/
ma high has left, i'm in her long time that's what they tol' me/
its march now, released in prolly december of 23'/
Tellin' ma bredrin about ma jacket full of branson/
smoke dat shit fo me, and deliever ma message to grandson/
tell em how a hustlah can become rich from being poor/
and how i began, rhyming on the stoop, right outside ma door/
tell em' about how biggie and Pac used to smash it/
wit' calfornia love and dead wrong, you know tha classics/
tell em' how bitches went from hating me, to adoring me/
do this homie, this shit is ma life story/

yo grimey won ya shits not dat bad styll...great punchlines and metaphores, but your 2 damn repetative. u mentioned dat u were high and how ur eyes r bloodshot lyke 50 tymes dawg but ova all nuff respect!
P.S. note 4 next tyme dont fuckin talk bout gettin high all da tyme u fuckin craced druggie. try out 4 MP!