His father died, never knew him to shield him from the rain Starting shooting heroin at fourteen to numb the pain Track marks similar to tattoos tell the story of a sad fool Tragic monologue of a man who became a victim of half-truths and whispered secrets His own inner-demons, syringes and lesions Crack pipes and binges for weekends Led to benders and blackouts that last for seasons For no apparent reasons, never had children He was a child in a man's body Found joy in the thrill of the streets and crack parties Robbing drug dealers, selling dope, selling soap Locked in the belly of the beast where the felons roam Gift of gab, quick-witted with the clever soul Couldn't keep him from catching a buck-fifty in his dome Matter fact, more like 250, too shifty His name was Howie but on Rikers Island he was just
Time and time again as I pick up the pen As my thoughts emerge these are those words I glance at the paper to know what's going on Someone's doing wrong, the story goes on
A lot of stuff happens that the news won't tell yous Loose all L juice, snooze all hell loose State of the slums, kill four, play the drums Fake ones, they're coarse with smiles and snake tongues
Fuck a clan and a cult man, I stand on my own All by myself growing up a fuck you ? abandoned, disowned I'm alive and thriving driving like a bandit would go You ain't got no balls so you don't understand it at all I'm America's nightmare, I'm a werewolf with soul I'm unbearable with no fam I'm just terrible yo I have hate in my heart so when I tear a new hole And all your dreams and ideals, momma where would oyu go? Watched my father betray me baby watched Erica go That's interference, I just wanted Terrence to grow Steering clear of all these voices I can hear in my skull Hear in my head, surrounded by these spirits is dead Who are you to trust and who I am to judge it? This is do-or-die, sucidie on a budget You can hate or love it but I put it on my motherfucking mother That I came out and I ain't going back to the gutter
Time and time again as I pick up the pen As my thoughts emerge these are those words I glance at the paper to know what's going on Someone's doing wrong, the story goes on
A lot of stuff happens that the news won't tell yous Loose all L juice, snooze all hell loose State of the slums, kill four, play the drums Fake ones, they're coarse with smiles and snake tongues
The story goes on
