Craig & Decatur

I used to have my head close shaved, like a tight & high.

Now I'm at ya local liquor store, robbin' the teller,

if he fidgets, put the rounds right inside.

My knuckles are unblemished, so I choose to murder you mentally,

I don't like to fight. I'm grinding everyday, from five to nine.

Polishing my noggin', I like my mind to shine,

And If I get knocked off by some punk, and you're choosing the casket,

Just remember, I'd like mine in pine.

I'm not a fan of alcoholism, so I don't wine & dine.

But I won't bitch about this box of mac & cheese, that's whine & dine.

Seeing these junkies taking sips from pints in between bites.

Then when they're gone off the yak, it's neither fight nor flight.

Take a seat, your mind is fried, you won't see what's coming, blinding lights.

Mixing potential energy with cyanide.

Killing these genetic remnants of wack rappers, solidified genocide.

I'm an intoxicant, leaving you gasping for air, antioxidant.

Leave you running for the hills, such a negligent exodus.

Put their name on my list, I'll 'x' them in.

Holes in the ground, much bigger than where the projectiles exited.