little homie was sick of always losing turned to the bottle straight boozing came up with a plan to make some scrilla started robbin cats made no friends it didnt matter always thought it would get better once his pockets got fatter....only he turned to the drugs needle in his arm fading in and out comatoce state of mind never thiught he was causing any harm never thougjt about his moms never thought about the pawns in his wicked game till the day he passed away.....damn