To all the killers and a hundred dollar billas
for real niggas who ain't got no feelins
cowards like you just get they're whole body laced up
with bullet holes and such
speak the wrong words man and you will get touched
you can put your whole army against my team and
I guarantee you it'll be your very last time breathin'
your simple words just don't move me
you're minor, we're major
you all up in the game and don't deserve to be a player
don't make me have to call your name out
I'm only nineteen but my mind is old
and when the things get for real my warm heart turns cold
now, take these words home and think it through
or the next rhyme I write might be about you
'cause ain't no such things as halfway crooks
scared to death, scared to look
they shook
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