Everything I ever did was done from desperation
I was shunned by a society that kept me in stagnation
Justified by the means
I survived by the means
Felt the vibes by the nice
While the nice kept me lean
I was used I was raped I was sold I was breeded
Multiplied the people that they say they never needed
Au contraire my hair defined my lack of opportunity
But mister mister still gon judge my people with impunity
Define me as an urchin cause I don’t live up on Wall Street
Treat em like they’re merchants
Disregard when Venice sinking
Tell me you don’t understand why I do all this evil
All you need to know is my employer says we’re equal
What you mean
All I mean is that I’m dead,
So that should explain why I aim this weapon at your head
Maybe someone wants you out the picture for the bread
I bring balance when the powers cheat to get ahead
I can feed my sister for another mister missing
just another mister I don’t have to listen to her getting
it’s upsetting I admit
I’m a hit man
there’s not much that I regret
I’m the shit man
Grim Reaper
Automatics for the people
My church is the streets
the dollar is the steeple
gotta chip on my shoulder that’s the size of the economy
Your gross domestic products made of gang gang mentality
Only god can judge me in this word of cheap expendables
And I’m about my business some might say that I’m dependable
Indispensable
even for the heathens
White hot lightning in dark corner dealings
Now let’s get it over with
I’m running outta reasons.
Wait I got one more and that’s “it’s killing season”

Requiescat in Pace