look inside

F*** you...

One two on the mic let's start this flow

in my crib there lies a vast domain

some give props to the criminally insane



sugar is sweet as sweet as honey

like to hear that chime of the sound of the money

ain't nothing funny...

Guns will kill some shoot to thrill



Out in the streets we call it the hood

peeps are up to know good

wine is fine but whiskey's quicker

suicide is filled with liquor



take a bottle to drawn your sorrows

Never going to be another day tomorrow

instead let's choose to look about to the heavenly love

why does this word get swept under the rug



you got freaks with suits crying don't pollute

rhymes on top cause you can't see the bottom

Gone are the old days of Sodom

we bow to a lesser god in no position



When you face the facts you'd be wishing

playing second fiddle with the pots in the kitchen

can't even think to dismiss this earthly bliss

with a time well spent in thought



there's still a dozen of pots in your sink

F*** you again bruh my friend

Us in the hood are going to get it in the end

beats to the rhyme so the rhyme goes to the prison



Something you been looking for homeboy that I'm dishin

Save ya money for ya momma next time vote for Homeboy Obama

you liar...you liar...blood filled desire

blowing up the charts like Shug Knight ran the scene



living in a land to is so very mean

people scream still blown in desire

like Hendrix sang, Let me stand next to your fire

Let me take you hire