Texty:
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Oh, runnin' for your life by the knife You're runnin' from your wife, yipes You should've stuck with home 'Cause your mind's to blow your dome It was

In the whip, tryin' to a grip On how to bring the next and the new shit, brain lit No pen, no pad, this the sickest, illest thought I ever had thoughts

Stax of wax 55 high fulla tracks New cats jackin' beats from way back Pay for play only way to get them platinum plaques Clear the racks jobbers slobbin

Start a war on the poor gettin' mad donations Takin' cheese out of poor nations Got Haitians still on sugar plantations Wiped 'em out called it exotic

People runnin' on empty, rock the sympte Outside 2001, other side of the sun Running, here we go tumblin', few solutions Honey, they polluted the future

First the sheep, next the shepherd, chucks run amok multiplying Like leopards, spots 'em up the long bomb's a record A long shot, three minutes fifteen

If you don't own the master Then the master own you Who do you trust from swindlers lust From the back of the bus? Neither one of us control The fate

I came from a place I forgot I woke up in a parking lot Far from a meal and a cot On the corner Where all the streets got the same name Maybe my brains

Let me hear you say I ain't mad at all Bought a fat jam to make you flip the script Don't want to sleep and misbehave Understand what I'm saying I'm