the silver views turn to gold
buyin platnum chains
I aim at a hooded up gangasta
chrome stuntin while my
guns in the range
I'm hustlin
he's gettin shot at
a stranger 2 myself
I'm the example of a wanna be killer
thinkin I'm on top of the hood
awaiting my blood to spill
thus I can't wait to be realer
he's walkin the streets with his head phones
warped in a world of ghetto visions
free to roam
till his heads blown
I seek and submerge thrones
the streets is his limit
he had will power
prestige makin jakes lower their tones
in a world of his own
where he thought and translated his ish to lyrics
words of color and taste ruled his mind
nothin but but outlines of jewelry shined enlit
had it sun shine rind diamonds, rubies
or whatever lied in it
as he stalked
ready eyes steady
so concentrated
speech like messiah talk
though seperated from god
left confined to this earth he walked
I knew em and rolled up on em
I almost pulled the trigger
as he's leavin
leavin others askin
why he's in the streets
they question him
but his expression keeps baskin
he stands strong but the golden statures lessen him
ignoring the laughter
he practices rappin and god blesses him
usin emotion its mergin holiness and hip hop culture
is what he's after
created as but a vulture
written scriptures he captured with his brain
he's deep
he's enraptured
I rode off and silently
practiced so god could bless me

Attached Images

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Ya shit is no competition like 'trucker hats' against some 'fitteds'
nigga I'll fade u away like J's on the ballin court in a 'arcura' wit 'tinteds' -mindkontrol

none yall niggas wanna see me...