star wars, wit handle bars, a constant battle, wht the hell else, it really dont matter, u all glassed out, gone off shatter, up a damn creek with no paddle, not the one to judge, just don't have time to deal with parasites and bugs, fake thugs and fake drugs, hittin the streets, a lotta things outta reach, they must b toddlers, who the hell wanna help em out, y the hell bother, u lookin for the 2pac of tomorra, not comin back, y dont u get real, with youself, and fun with that, a lotta MCs, worried about some benzis, and never seen a 367, u carry a mac 11, now thts old, u wearin fake gold, and now thts gold, thats da world for ya, aint gone care for ya, b faithful and fair to ya, a waste of time, y da hell am i talking, a waste of line, a waste of bars, might as well get wasted at the bars, might as well, start tryna talk to mars, lookin up in the sky no stars, wht are those, who da hell knows, as long as u got a few shows, a few hoes, what else, u big man with the belts, cant knock it, straight up, mr big cuffs, on point, excuseif i jus get on one, seein real struggle, been in real trouble, not only, daily, on the block, messed up, like mr. lonely