Ill Bill - 21 lyrics

(Slaine) I'm gettin' skinnier by the minute.. (Chorus) I turned 21 in prison, doing life without parole When the jury heard what I'd done, guilty was the vote When the judge gave me my sentence, he read it to me cold Whiskey on his breath, masturbating underneath his robe Only 21 in prison, doing life without parole When I had the chance, I should've sold the devil my soul Hell yeah, I shot the sheriff, left his body full of holes Now I'm 21 in prison, doing life without parole (Verse 1) We all enter the world the same way Naked and screaming, soaked in blood but things change Some are brought home to palaces, others to the projects Some are born billionaires and some are born convicts Momma said when life gives you lemons make lemonade Take a piss in it and serve it to the people that you hate My pops always said there's only two types my friend Those with loaded guns and those who eat sh** 'til they're dead I miss both of them, one's gone, the other in prison I hate both of them, the love dies and none of it given I gave both of them enough time to show me their wisdom I'll take both of them to hell with me, my soul is convicted As I stand in front of Satan hoping for answers Coping with madness, I hold the chrome like a social advantage Never hate your enemies, it affects your judgement Keep it close point blank range and render justice! (Chorus) (Verse 2) Ladies and gentlemen of the jury The defendant's story begins within a childhood of fear and misery Age ten, witnessed his father murder his own mother The guilt of her d**h lingers in his dreams when he slumbers Even though he was a child he still felt responsible Most of his adolescence in and out of mental hospitals Anti-social, anti-everything s**ed into a system, pacified by prescribed medicine With psychiatrists as father figures His biological a scumbag sociopath locked in prison He hated him with all his heart and so he never visited Though the monster that his father was also lived in him k** a person you're a murderer, thousands you're a terrorists Everyone, you're the father of Jesus of Nazareth Perception is reality, facts are negotiable I'll clap the mack off and put twenty-one holes in you (Chorus) Coke, it costs money. Planes, they cost money. This yacht, it all costs money. Do you think kitty's free? (What?!) huh!? Kitty turn around (What?) turn around Mister please put the gun down (gunshot) Now the next time that a plane goes down, You better be on it.