time passin, stuck wit rhyme passion, fuck six times mashin, bust six nines splashin//
blood on clean polo attire, now i fiend solo to get-higher, too you teen homos i spit-fire//

so u faggots-will-melt, im stabbin-ya-health, whos laughin-in-hell, im strappin-wit-shells//

prepared to flare on anybody that stares, but when you get older you dont really care, by then no friends to share//

information and gossip, sense-you-hatin so watch-it, let me pinch-your-fate-n-drop-it//

watch it shatter like shitty-glass, aint nothin phatter than city-ass, aint none of that gritty-grass//

just light-green and nice-dreams, on tha street i have to fight-fiends,this might-mean//

that tha hood is dangerous, never could come hang-wit-us, we all split apart after tha game-hit-us//

and sucked us into tha cycle, not organized crime that requires rifles//

i need an automatic, somethin thats not-sporadic, like me when i thought-i-had-it, then lost-my-gadget//

complex machinery, thats some next-shit-ass-greenery, smoked it and it could have been hydro atleast it seemed-to-be//

seems-to-me that theres bad resolution, negative messages pollutin our revolution//

kids and gangstas shootin so we always loosin.