what a life it cuts like butterknife
member way back when it was fun to write
something nice now kids just run and hide
cant walk anywhere without a gun at night
plus they bit my dogs we coming right
cheatin us for so long we jumpin twice
tell a bookie throw the f***in dice
keepin is soulful cause funk is nice
drunken type master of duck and dive
summertime un_earned a son of mine
still lookin fresh as cargo just arrived
never hesitant to bust it live
and the nine is mine to stun a mind
dj powers drops in stutterheim
at highschool i was never the flunking rtype
visitin priznick got stuck inside
now i walk around carrying a riusted mic
strugglin man across the colour line
had a full head of hear a rasta type
show you a hundred ways to kap a pipe
ya record might just sell the cover's tight
you lookin so british become a knight
we stayin grimy dark like covered lights
courted scandal shit i love that dime
lost on a road with a dozen signs
found self again it seems some punks are blind
up at five to make beats come alive
nothin new about the puppet jive
hiphop connected look to one archive
_after the rain must shine the sun bright
true for every dark tunnel sight
i am the light_right(repeat)