Texty: Woodie. Life Stories, Vol. 1. If I Wasn't.

And if I wasn't high I'd probably blow my fuckin' brains out

[Woodie:]
Now if I wasn't drunk I'd probably blow my fucken brains out
The A.P.D wanna ring my neck for the way I handle thangs now
You think I give a fuck? My whole life I've been known to press my luck
I'm walkin' up the block with a limp from the SK chop tucked in my nuts
I hope this goes as planned, it's been about 2 weeks I've been plottin'
About how far to park the getaway and how many fences I'll be hoppin'
How many backyards got dogs? Fuck that, kill 'em with the steak and d-con
Then do my dirty deed commence to hit that fence and be gone
For the future blastin', gotta keep my ass up out the casket
Or my click gonna be one less deep that's one less soldier in action
And we can't afford that, too many riders already swallowed
But we hangin' on with a left hand grip while our right hands buckin' hollowz
Hollerin' Yoc life... Norte... fuck thirteen... catorce
I earn a stripe for the norte side every scrap life I make forfeit
Plus there's more shit I must tend to due to the backstabbin' I've been through
Antioch's my place of venue for ex-homiez on my menu
Chalk it up to the evil that men do when I ventilate your chest
And you can't help but piss and shit all over yourself and meet your death
Take your last breath.