It was Halloween night, no Michael Myers in sight.
I was dressed up as a mime, ready to get high as a kite!
I was no juggalo, but I played ICP in the whip.
As I burnt rubber towards downtown to get me some shit.
With my barnett in platts, I headed down to the flats.
That was full of dope feins, like the roaches, and rats.
I was approached by a straggly haired lady, she looked like a banshee.
A hag of the mist type, and asked me for some Mandy.
I said "I've got nothing on me lady, now leave me alone!"
As I proceeded to my dealer, to call him at his home.
He lived at the top tower block, up a spiral of apples, and pears.
I gave him a rapid knock, to make sure he was there...
Cracula opened up his door, but he wasn't in disguise.
He always looked zombified, with dark rings under his eyes.
He had a pet bat, that flew freely around his flat.
And never got attacked by his matt-black cat!
Cracula was OG, your average Joe wouldn't know where he's been.
He wore a chunky gold rope chain like Run DMC.
He sported a black NY cap, and a tatt of a ganja leaf on his neck.
He wore a romper stomper bomber jacket, and had boat-race like a train wreck.