Wake up each morning in a broken bed and thank the lord
that his highness did not feel the need to pull out my life cord
step up onto my two feet and greet myself
pick up the gat and place it into my belt
take the red bandanna and tightly tie it around my forehead
look around my room, then inside my frig, but i only find bread
peak out the dusty window and see the 06 benz
three people in it, they call themselves my friendz
all dressed in red, from the head to the toe
one of them even has a red comb in his fro
i step outside my "house" and approach the car
i see the proff of gunshots based on the passenger's scar
the driver is speaking hastily, i cant make out what he is saying
in the backseat, a young boy sitting with his hands on his head and praying
together we drive to the hospital and enter the musty room
this guy can't die, in two weeks he is supposed to be a groom
fill out the paperwork while they connect him to a screen
to monitor his heart rate, blood pressure and to give him some special cream
rage fills my heart, i know what needs to be done
the games are over, there is no more room for fun
i take the two guys and we go back to my place
roll up a few blungs, start smoking as i fail to see distortion in my face
once we are high, it is time for the magic to spray
today will end up being a very tragic day
get into the car and drive for a half an hour
there is no time to think, i will not be a coward
we see four guys all dressed in dark blue
their facial expression gives us a solid clue
these are the people that shot my homie
i have to shoot them, i can't feel sorry
we roll down the tinted windows and unload
and the rest of the gruesome story doesn't need to be told
the next day, i got a tattoo of a tear under my eye
to represent the sin of killing the passerby.