My parents ran a residential rehabilitation center. The basement of the first house on Thirty-five Chestnut Street was home for me as a newborn. When I was a kid my life seemed to have no adventure and felt completely void of characters. It wasn't as vivid as tales spun by addicts in search of recovery and a personal Jesus. Back then I didn't see contradictions and complications as a process of human maturity. Time taught me that Life is tragic, hope filled, explicit, and blessed ...
Oct 30, 2009
Guess who?
Niggaz mad my swagy bubbled to redickle/get off my pickle you've been left behind like the rapture/ or like you failed 5th grade math pick your chin up & get outta my path/I might resort to my bullying ways/hit you wit a flying fuck tucked as I turn buckle tussle like my name was bob backland/suplex your anatomy fucking tool/join the academy/and maybe you'll be worthy of some Shepparding action/niggaz in my faction got history of gun clapping, get ya jaws to flapping you'll be yapping to the captain/wake up missing in action/Sunday they'll be asking what happen cuz his passing got me feeling that this shit could really happen/not this time but next time I'll probably name names/M.I. shitting on pussy collars from on top of the game/who shot ya?
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a direct shot at someone it seems lol
ReplyDeleteme gusta: "not this time but next time I'll probably name names"