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Nineteen, still gettin' kicked out the cribRipped off my bib, spit out my food, hiccup and pissUrine burnin', I could smell the liquor in thisCats always tryna' pick up the fist"Duff this dude out"Rappers stoop just to get to your cribNow it's like bruised face, loose walk, too saucedDistraught thoughts on my corpse on the asphaltBack when I'd slack off, rock my slacks of my ass half-offEvery time I rap I blast-offBack when I catch court I always had sportsDippin' on cops in my track shortsSo tell my mom I had to make it rightI lie every night about the lime-light so I could lie at nightAnd tell my pops I gotta' take adviceKeep my head screwed on tight, abuse these micsSee me, I'm the contusion typeA cat to smack the micAgainst my fuckin' head when I'm losing hypeRATKING, never losing hype, noIt's RATKING and I do it right, noRATKING, yeah, I do it nice, woahBitch, I skated before I rappedIf you take me before your captainBet twenty hots on your daddySongtexteThat someone gon' know you're clappin'Probably cold and passiveCause pops was the one that got to meFeeling down like he passed itAnd when I'm cornered, it's actionI was kinda' out the gameMomma put the quarter right back in the slotIn 09', we took the 7 to the Dussy 17 to the blockBitch, if yo' nigga had Supreme, we was the reason he copped itAnd nowadays I'm on the hunt for mirrors to box withAnd some pretty bitches that ain't trip if it's a hit and runI got the gold cause I don't do the crying, broShe Mario, I'm tryna' keep the whining to a minimumPiggies come, bet I'm splittin' quicker than I finish rumFind me some IndicaNuggets on my fingers and my shirt like they was chicken crumbsThe room spinnin', finna' yak if I don't hit the bluntGot the chin wagon, slim chances of me getting upAfter thisMind in the trash next to where my fuckin' passion wentDodge fanatics, half-a-Xanax when I'm traveling six hours or moreBrick out on the tour, got kicked out of the morgueSpit cattle manure shit, shit, rally the HorsemenTally the corpses Aus Songtexte Mania