a thug on his porch, smokin wit his pant-leg-tucked, throwin gang-sets-up, wants in so his name-gets-fucked//

now hes walkin through, drippin-blue, if he sees red hes clippin- crews, fuckin sluts and sippin-juice//

a couple of years, dont see-fears, tattoed three-tears, blue rag coverin his eyes he cant see-clear, he only sees colors, bitches, and these queers//

twenty nine and he still sellin surpintine, obviously tha ether aint workin-fine, my rhymes straight serachin-minds//

now hes bingin, crack cocaine till he starts syringin, his soul and body need cleansin, too much tension//

did i mention hes fuckin prostitutes, which makes him a lost- dispute, definitley not eligible to constitute//

doin devils-dandruff hes plagued, just a rebel-handcuffed its vague, he found out in a couple of days he had aids.