[Verse 1: juncla**ic] Grew in poverty Great Depression stressing the economy His father made a martyr outta honesty Said son… “Only way to stay out the slum Is by the way of the gun One wave and ya done” Youngin' knew a rich woman But the lady ain't help him Ran wit' The Tape Bandits Baby Face Nelson Did robberies Nelson caught a body and laughed Pop was sloppy Got hit by a shotty and pa**ed Wit no Mommy Fate made him a ward of the State He escaped a foster home As sweat poured from his face Had to steal to eat And got down with a gang Grabbed a gun and fell in love With the sound of the Bang Rose through the criminal ranks With brazen acts Never did a bid the kid Kept his game intact And that made him legendary And a boss in some rough towns Many cemeteries Raised their cost when he touched down [Verse 2: PremRock] He pa**ed his trees off to his man Blade in hand, pleading like Brooks Hatlen is a reasonable man We all bleeding fam He spoke between Pall Mall's Now tell your story walking planting seeds in the Sudan It's whether or not you choose to fasten the clot Stands to reason Only one of us is leaving with achieving their plan Thickening agents for the plot And it's often all for naught Speak your piece or kick rocks Left a trail of broken hearts, smoking guns and picked locks On the road to perdition probably held up the liquor spot Got his loving on the run No need for hurdles up Spilled milk ain't a tragedy ‘cause it tends to curdle up Never trust a man so willing to grant a favor… And never leave that phaser on stun Come for the benediction But you're stayin' for the show And you purchase for the purpose but you're paying for the glow… Traveling medicine show Sipping on Old Crow, adage age old DT couldn't handle the caseload He did it for the pesos
Revolver in the trench like - “Don't nobody move until I say yooooo…” I was born like this Sight's on won't miss Light's on don't switch Is this mic on? sh** Torpedoes be damned I'ma light that wick You can fight back if you want you better bite that lip [Verse 3: Warren Britt] Waking up at five he Get to work at eight Just to get ate by eight different parts of his plate This is great He don't see no escape The bills late always Plus he gotta tell this to his date, who he hate Showered in sour grapes and spilled milk Got him feeling like the bride at the start of k** Bill Will feel victorious one of these days Baby say he got a baby on the way Is it mine? Is it his? It is what it is, getting pushed out the place that he lived since a kid And he still gets piss from the pigs when he gives To the city and the state just to fix up their crib [Verse 4: Urban Miracle] It is what it is It what it was He says you make moves But the result ain't up to us Can't give up Gotta keep it motoring right Faith in God and the plan Stay holding him tight And He see the prize all in sight Within his grasp Gorilla arms with monkey wrench Right up in his plans It's just him Trying to advance Sick of nothing but lint In the pockets of his pants But each scheme Meets its end by ironic means It's hard to keep the faith When you on a losing team Can't lose the dream If needs a re-work Don't fall for reactions like a knee jerk Consider it the rebirth A re-cert He keeps forward, never revert Sometimes it's new lessons for the teacher In defeat it's a form of grace Follow suit If it's brief Solve the case He makes moves Avoiding buffoons He the rusty fork Wanting the silver spoon Soon A jester to a grand imperial From the condemned to a miracle