Bite me.
When I say I’m in a bad mood, don’t take it lightly.
It’ll be a fight g’
When you step to me.
‘Cus the stain on my heart burns like lightning striking a dried tree.
There’s fire in my eyes, but all the whites see is a hood and a cold ass ice tee.
I get punched in the gut and I dry-heave,
But the fist is internal. It might be
The hand of my main man,
My cuz - My thug - My soldier, who died for me.
Kev and I went on a ride to the other side with a knife
Thinking there might be
A bright night, a dark day for the red, for the black and the white g’s
And they brought it back against the blues with more than a knife,
More than a fight,
More than a life.
Eleven of twelve of us got either the white light or the for-life…
All except for me.
So when I say I’m in a bad mood, don’t take it lightly.
I walked away, got out the hood, but it’s still
Blue over orange for life - Even past the life,
Till my coffin drops beneath a stone that reads
5-2 Hoova C.