Some days I'm just like... what should be done?"

Choke the beat till it's soul go free
homicidal optimist  
only killers believe in and hope for me
my voice like a god hand
it holds the beat
drop it so hard kill you so quickly
in a bog leave  
you where the hoggies almost shot me
in the woods flashlights playing spotty
where the bodies buried under doggies
so the police don't know and leave
just talking about this life we lead
led paint you eat so dead brains the youth be
resurrected headies acid hits and always with this fruity
blue weed got me in a lucid dream
i said I aint a saint  
-so do you believe?
suicidal openly like woe is me
put the pistol too my tongue like acid drops it seems
vagabond on a roll it seems
traintrack walkin,
brain dead talkin,
sleepin on steam grates scheming of better things
thinking about joining up with old homies
like all our soldiers overseas
while some our boys can't cope to leave
stay home and hold their kids
stand on the block
with their hand on a rock so cold they freeze  
and hold the streets
all us molding these
youngins into old men so quickly
those candles burning twice as bright as most
burning out quicker I suppose
throwing gas on our clothes
smokey smells and toasty homes
food in fridges after we hit this
mind your business be no witness
leave you in a dumptruck
police holding there nuts up
dumb struck like "what the fuck?"
I don't know... get a job... fall in love
first you gotta find a place to sleep for one...
get through the rough...
getting closer to the underground always with this hole in one.