Ballad Of That Nigga That Used To Live Round Here

I'm living the lifetime of a soon-to-be dead man
My Bloody red hands, steer the 'lac
and like formal pants I slack
I slouch
the night is dull, thoughts kicked out,
My wisdom dies
bobbin my head to the sound of
bullets wizzin by
Under the crimson skies, I ride
a couple dead bodies rot in the trunk
I hit the breaks, then i jump out
pump out rounds,
my bullets quite blatant
turnin niggas to crustaceans
Give 'em shells on their backs
Their blood covers my tracks
Then I pop a pill
Then the rain from cloud nine
washes it all down the hills
I hop back in the car,
wave at the law as i drive away, stressed
The smell of henny still strong on my breath
Riding even slower now, tires rollin over
broken wine bottles and crack rocks,
cigar smoke smokes out the exhaust pipes,
fogs the night, clouds my perception
feelin a little like bruce wayne
flirting with insanity, married to lois lane
but havin an affair with mary jane
She comes out the ziploc
when i dont want to feel my brain
and when i want to feel alive.
And when i want cake
I exercise, life weight and end lives.
And despise the fact that I'm strapped
I still feel insecure
Hollow tips hit the floor
Then the law strips my life
till its nothing more
than drawers
and a BBQ stained wife beater
My gun
produces franklins like mother of Aretha
Ima keep robbin niggas blind
till im spotted like a cheetah.
Then im gone
Back in the 'lac listenin to the shootout theme song
Ballad of a hustla that dreams wrong

The rims on the car and my mind
are similar how they keep spinnin
when i stop
And the distributers whispers in my ear
wanna sell me rocks
As i walk on the chalk-outlined sidewalk
into the heart of my block
Called the liquor store
where killers corps
strut around, spied on by security cameras
and the shifty eyes of the Korean clerk.
As i lurk
through the aisles, searchin for a stress reliever
I end up purchasin a 40
The clerk almost has a seizure
when i reach deeper in my pocket
He didnt know
If i'd take out money or a rocket
And stick him up for the money.
I did and the safe, i made him unlock it
Took out his profits,
stuffed it in the duffle
I had a choice to transcend
or end the trouble
I shoot a hole in the lens
of the security camera and put the hammer to his temple
I said, "I can make this simple
let me lay down the fundamentals...
snitchin will be detrimental--
do it and i wont be sentimental when i send you to your god
I'm a tempermental nigga
and i only pull incidental triggers--Im a crook at large
I run out and all the vibe and xxl magazines on the shelf applaud
I hop back in the car and cruise abroad
And that was the ballad of a member of the mob minus an honest job