3rd person
Walk through the projects-in-his-mind, allow his prospects-to-unwind,
He lives like suspects-on-the-grind, laying his concepts-on-his-nine
Always confuse-friends-for-foes, thinking their the same-or-equal,
Forced to abuse-his-trends-for-dough, patrons tell him flame-the-people
After savage assaults, he has no choice but to rest-in-the-mud,
His conscience poisons his heart, like the disease digesting-his-blood
To stimulate-his-aggression he infiltrates-his-depression,
Through the tunnels of injustice he navigates-his-profession
Can’t detect-his-fear, always expect-hes-near n protect-ya-gear,
With stolen denim and mama's money he still rejects-a-tear
See the criminal-distortion in a minimal-proportion,
One man that’s able to hold the subliminal-extortion
Picture a face-of-anxiety, Life has no space-for-variety,
This hoodrat searches many homes for a place-in-society
Suffered through the pen, left with his soul brutally swollen,
His methods do not fit life, like the clothes that he has stolen
Immune to the cold, No comfort as every days a new estate,
Scrambles, his life in shambles without food on a dinner plate

1st person
Knocking out innocent people all-manners-wrapped-and-misplaced
Mentality erupted with small-hammers-strapped-to-my-waist
Rocking a chain-which-isn't-mine, waiting for my brain-to-get-inline,
The devils got my soul, the lord put a stain-on-my-design
I'm constructed-out-of-sin, feels like I’m corrupted-by-my-kin,
Genetic traits from my father must have erupted-from-within
My ghat staggers-to-attack, Wonder how long the crimes-take,
Feels like daggers-in-my-back, Inserted for the dimes-sake
Since the day I was born, 20 years of tryin to keep warm,
There clothes feel like my organs, cause both of them feel torn
My words are harsh, my plots are deadly, but my ghats speaking louder,
With a 'crib' I don’t see 'bread', and cover myself in 'powder'
With worthless morals and ethics my mind lets me Endeavour,
America and the world should realize, crime rate last forever

.::BattleZ::.