It aint fun knowing that you dying
I here the government talking stop the bloodclot lying
So me say well homie as a matter fact
When it comes to that they introduced the hood to crack
Everybody knows you getting dough no looking back
Is you a snitch money tell me what you looking at
You better look on that,like how your boy Bush took a whole country black
Am I a better man whenever I put on some slacks
They trying to say I lack,all G can do is rap
Aint got to say much they'll be looking for the facts
Cops hate me out of town assuming I bring in the packs
I hate the corner pain is produced spread by rats
My word the plague bubonic to cope I ash the chronic
Some blame it on the tonic say aliens supersonic
I don't worry if they come gone want superchronic:
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