Lotta niggaz ask me wut wrong cuz I’m stressed but frontin
I was blessed wit sumptin
Next to nuthin, so everywhere I go I bring tha vest n pump in
So niggaz hop off my dick, stop holdin me n my mans back
I done scrapped in tha gutter, ashy knuckles n hands black
I gain knowledge from every step I take to fame
But tha violence n weed kept my fate the same
I can feel it in my gut, never been this sicker before
Homies gone, n we runnin outta liquor to pour
I see music as an outlet, to just let a emotion go
But I can feel the end nearin and closin slow
So I grip my steel till I clutch my heart
Jot a few rhymes down as I break the dutch apart
This one is for dem niggaz that lived tha struggle
And stood up like a man when they was given trouble
~One~
~Jerzey

__________________
~Jerzey~
As I'm Blessed with
Tha best gift

~One~

Holla at cha boi