troublesome

we comin' thru kickin'

one two three

ya come thru talkin' shit when you shoulda prayed for peace

at least

ya momma shoulda warned ya better

look in my eyes, no warmth comin' from my north face sweater

 

in fact

i gotta little somethin' to say

even when i get high to pass the day away

still got time to let my mind unwind and relate

to all these fake cats stuntin' like they really get paid

 

cross the fence and i'll spit with murderous intent

switch up the beat, emcees still killed by the end

in their defense

they don't know nothin' else

than defeat at the hands of those born to hold chalice

 

no malice in my eyes like clipse without blood ties