I wanna go home, better yet I think I want to escape
Get me away from all this wickedness that done piled up on my plate
Constate hate, is it my fate
Trying to build off within me, all of these jealousies and envies
Got me watching out for my enemies, weed and Hennessy
Got my mind blurry
And everybody is so when to hurry to tell they crime story
But all the time worry, who get the glory?
When everybody got to perish, is it that money that you cherish?
Or that baby in the carriage, scared to death
Not me never, one of my baby boys is gone
Probably kicking it up in heaven, thugging at the crossroads with Tombstone
You wrong, who wrong
For packing that pipe, Mr. Officer
Got you thinking out your coffin sir
And need me 'cause I'm soft and sir