Life

Picture a lil white boy, dreaming of millions, killin em like Freddy Kruger with lyrics hotter than satan, son.

 

Now picture that lil boy with his ipod in hand, getting laughed at by the people he thought would be his fans.

 

Mom and Dad didn't support him for shit, he had to go on by himself, get his sickest tracks an run with it.

 

This lil kid runin tracks like a chu-chu train, but he didn't put em out cause he thought they were lame.

 

He put off his asperations of becoming a rapper, became a slacker, got mad at his wife an slapped her.

 

He became the lowest form of shit on earth, now his kid gone grow up with a daddy that's worth, less

 

Then pack of crack he bought from some trash, but at least that trash is pulling some form cash.

 

Goes to a hotel room cause his wife kicked him out, he had no time to pout, cause her gun got pulled out.

 

He knew that he was a danger to his kid, so from out his backpack, he pulled a gun, it was his.

 

He couldnt live with himself anymore, he was an abusive sack of scum, even his rent he couldn't afford.

 

He knew what needed to be done, he knew he'd miss his son, but with hell coming quick, his son would need to run.

 

He took his last hit from the pipe, a tear from a face wiped, and he put that gun to his mouth like his

 

old mic.