im sick of driving shitty dingers spitting nines like sticky fingers call us city slingers ill be drinking sicky liqours giving you the hippie fingers backwards the smoke thickly lingers bastards get choked out masters are woke now and passwords get broked down and actors get scoped down on a matress liked uve smoked brown or been pricked like a cactus dont joke round practise his bespoke sounds not trying to prove grounds attracted to drugs like dope hounds finding all the coke pounds he smells and he folla the scent he feels intrigued for a dollar or cent he on his knees begging for a fix he should be blowing trees not betting lunatics for change he needs to be sweating on a crusifix for days