Niggas will snatch ya chain and rock it//
I tell the future, but I ain’t a prophet//
I'm just a rapper that aims to profit//
Touchin’ matters of fucking patterns//
Where mothers fathom their son living…//
A peaceful life, but his gun's with him//
3 at night, he slowly walks the street//
Cautiously, zoning to the walkman beat//
All police at they rests, they off they feet//
Talking cheap, countin’ up our arrests//
This cat was blessed with good eye sight//
He knew a 'lac on tens would drive by//
He had a friend that had beef with them//
He knew the hood code, so he stood froze//
Thinking, "beef with friend, that’s beef with me yo"//
And he wasn’t tryin’ ta go where the good go//
So he grabbed his piece and turned slow//
Half closed eyes, he watched the car as it drove by//
They wasn't the cats that he recognized//
Despised, in a rush to start bustin’ his gat//
His mind was spinning, he’s making the moves//
So anger can prove ain’t no vagina in him//
He saw another car, this time's he grinnin’//
They pulled up close and shot 5 up in him//
Both his eyes was sunk back in his dome//
Chris will never ever make it back to his home//
He ain’t have shit on his mind but a hat and a comb//
’Til blasting of chrome left a full clip in his mind//
I'm kicking a rhyme so you can picture a crime//
That got niggas wildin’, drippin’ liquor and crying//
His mom's dream was a far fetched fantasy//
Should of known her own'll get caught in tragedy//