Spinnin tha cylindrical, you can see the holes roll...
Only one of em is filled and that filling's stone cold.
No feeling in it, the destination doesn't matter...
Cuz when the primer's hit all discrimination's scattered.
Could be a nigga, a cracker, or even me or you...
Cuz when ya play the game, ya see with a clearer view.
All ya hate, all ya love, it all gets set aside...
The only thing that counts is whose turn is it to die.
Slam shut the chamber and put the barrell to ya head...
Pull back on destiny, see childhood, then ya dead.
Look down at ya self, lyin lifeless with ya brains all out...
As ya soul rises upwards but then quickly plummets south.
Cuz ain't no gettin ta Heaven at the end of this game...
Since ya death was suicide you'll burn in Hell's flames.

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Merkings will occur Monday thru Friday, 8 am thru 5 pm, C.S.T.
For my convenience, not yours!