/sixteenbars/ volume one

you might win some, but you just lost one

might print numbers, you might get love

but you fight this one and you're lighting a drum, up under

the gunner, the hunter, who wanna cover

all bases, you ain't safe you mistaken

raymond, is waiting, for haters, to pace-in,

saving, the date, for a later, arrangement,

taking, a place, at the table, of greatest

and i'm fucking with em, my discussion with em

is about boy on the come-up, who running with em

they don't wanna listen, and i'm getting louder

"put up all your money in my pot of chowder,"

the hustle is everything, you live and learn to love it

tell em "money ain't anything ", so run it

gimme all of your hunnids, your twenty bands

i rummage up twenty grand and stuff it in benny' pants, fuck it

 

ray