See these be the times, I wish I was a cat with nine lives.
I'm sick of this life, wish I could start it over and do it right.
I mean I'm living in social hell, Outkast like Andre but only
time will tell, will I previal? As the years get young and I
grow older.. Or will I be a victim to society with a heart
thats colder? Feel like a soldier, Saluting in a white mans
world. I'm sick of the stress, I'm sick of the pains I feel in
my chest. Forced by the world and peer pressure, I smoke a
cigarette. Slowly eating away at my lungs, but I can't
feel it yet, but you can bet, everything you do comes back
1000 times fold. That's the way it is, it's not just another
story being told. Could it be that's why I'm feeling cold?
My heart bleed anti freeze, like a broke engine, but I'm
human so I fall to my knees. So please, with the help
of God, allowing and giving me the strenght I need to
proceed I strive to succeed. Like Talib Kweli to get by,
and so time follow me, I get high. Not as in altitude,
but as in smoking an L with my dudes. Compressed by
my feeling. I'm tired of being broke so I resort to drug
dealing, but on within that chapter comes another
whole story. I dont need that in my book for the
lord to read because it's boring. So like X said,
"same shit dawg, just a different day". He right,
because by the end of the night or ya life, you
got a price to pay. So right away, you start to feel
it when it hit you. Your conscious is trying to tell
you dawg, "the reaper's coming to get you". so now
you have an issue, not with the reaper, but the
issue with your mouth on your pistol.