Dear lord help me forget all my sins, one minute I think I'm good The next thing would be my death Hit up J. Chet, let them fuckas know we next We coming straight for the neck We running up for them checks Grab the AK, reload it and let it bang Call your bitch mayday, cause she go down on me everyday Fuckin' spitting twisted lyrics to calm all my senses Fuck a label, and a handout, bitch, we independent A cold day is always feelin' the same In the house of pain, through wait for habits to drain Never let up, I always get up And running thru the problems I deal with may be the same for you Rather be alone, in my conscience for so long As I sit in stone, I let my intentions be known Blood curdling sour, cause I live by the hour Only a minute to scour to find the source to empower Yeah, yeah, yeah, yea And bitch I'm dead talking Dead walking on the set Dripping wet coffin Gone pull the AK out the back And get that bitch sparking Gon' switch the choppa For the MAC And now your bitch jockin' The police ride around All day chalking But I just chalk it up Don't give a fuck 'Cause I ain't talking Ain't it awful How they sleeping on me I'm Posturepedic I got pull with plenty bitches They gone want me 'Til they need me Okay