The lady on the tele said 40 is 35
Pull over the car strap yourself and let me drive
Under take a route on the soles cover the backs of people who died on the same block you at
My hella vision’s jacked
The television ram-sacked thoughts into pretty diamonds and thick women
Who knew that fast money and long prison
Sentences’ mentioned when talking about Gangster ism
Now try and make decisions
When most guides blinded, desiring the pleasure and what they could get from you
Zealots for the page, keep your guard on the stage cause these niggas with the pens wanna put they tip on you
Sip from the supple fruit and flip on you
Spit seeds at the time of need and split on you
Hot blood heating into plasma grasp the definition of a man out a book and go after
Seeking legacy with a son produce bastards epidemy of arrogance but not a new chapter
Just a deeper hole
The beat got a depth so the words complex but let the concept grow
And we could let the love walk on by
Staggering love wondering how it all died
Managing times handling all the hardships
Forgiving all the pain but the heart won’t discard isht..
And in America that’s the market
Branded on your favorite CD or game cartridge
Load it an ipod, sit back while I lax
Lost about a 20 sell four nickels to get back
All intentioned to lose your sense
Transfixed in beat circuits that titillate tints
Motivate stints of passion reminder sores
Riffed vibrations of action reverbing pores
Can’t remember what you here for, therefore turn off the music
Let the message hit your ear more.
Don’t focus on the conduit
I’m tryna paint a picture but the art is in the music
It’s nothing but a prose, help you think of your goals
So don’t surrender your mind and let the music steal your soul