Texty:
The Ghost Inside Through The Cracks

Pride and pity play no part of the process. Like allegiance lost in hellfire, I've lost it all. Tell the maker of my grave that I'm not dead. There's

Pride and pity play no part of the process. Like allegiance lost in hellfire, I've lost it all. Tell the maker of my grave that I'm not dead. There'

Thoughts be runnin wild like the Lil' Rascals Puttin dinosaurs inside of figure fours, rip you with nine inch claws Chasin {motherfuckers} through malls, and clash in halls Beatin {motherfuckers} through walls, stompin through

drop a cup You see it smash inside you crack You can't go on but you sweep it up Safe at last inside your private hell Sanity at last inside your private

my eyes and at best I can trace with my finger all the way to that town where she went in an attempt to forget the cracks and the lines of my face.

to the Ghost of old days, yeah, old ager hump We rap renegades, must stay paid Get money (Get money) Get money, Ghost (Get money) Get money (Get money) Get money, Ghost

through your head bing Snap the wing off of bats, my battle-axe tongue hacks tracks Once the ball drop, I'ma snatch ten jacks Pass the crack to a niggarette

He thrusts his fists against the post and still insists he sees a ghost He thrusts his fists against the post and still insists he sees a ghost She's slippin through

truth about life Or to do it to ghetto and your car, rims and your ice Because even though we survived through the struggle that made us We still look at ourselves through