On the count of three we move out Anything flinches let the shell casings fly without questions or doubts Hold up…looking down at my Cartier watch Those bombs been set Yeah, my Queen you know we deal with nothing but top notch I peeped Lucky fucking some bitch in the back room Okay G you got my back I’m ready to send this bitch to her tomb In five, four, three, two, one Boom
Na'll niggas don’t run now Any one of your fucks move my Glock goes pow pow G bring that bitch to me I...
Let me guess. You want to know why I tried to kill myself.
You want to know how I survived. Why I disappeared. Where I've been all this time. But first, why I tried to kill myself, right?
It's OK. People do. They measure themselves against me. It's like this line is drawn somewhere in the world and if you never cross it, you'll never consider throwing yourself off a building or swallowing a bottle of pills - but if you do, you might.
People figure I crossed the line. They ask themselves, "Could I ever get as close as he did?"