this old bish

in all my daze in all the craze thru all that haze runnin thru dat maze you think you runnin a rat race but naw you spinning ya wheels think you stuntin but you end up in the same placesb jails institutions and death if you unlucky like me to live thru all three broken byond repair like a ball with no air no one wants to play no mo they gone on to the next ho theres greener eager beavers but only one who takes what life can dish that me im supreme a self rightious ol bish