Dealing

At nighttime all I do is pray and cry homie

Cause everytime I call home somebody dying on me

And every time I look around somebody lying on me

Mr cheney mr ridge steady spyin on me

I got one foot in the grave one foot in the gutter

One foot on the camera lens one foot on the shutter

I'm trying to stop time so I can breathe, man I'm grindin

Play record low pause fast forward rewindin

The truth is the light, but absolutely blindin

And niggas feel the pain on they brain when you remind them

About them project wars that we confined in

About them six by eight cells we linin

Bricks on consignment

A nigga lost his iron and club behind the diamond

The cops hit him with a club

He swung back they hit him with a slug

Then the judge hit him with a dub

His baby mama threw up

The saga continues...

I was born to clash with the fake

Harassin with jake

Lay real low in the grass with the snakes

Torment em with the fire when they raise they head

And I'm sorta just like elijah cause I raise they dead

After the stink and rot for days in the grave that I rose from

Deport the dead part of the game then the flows come

Flood the industry with three quarters of life

I'm takin this world of sa-tan to war with a mic

Please god back me as I swing the sword of the christ

Wavy hair fiery eyes,

Not entirely wise

Provoking these devils go to war with they squad

After war show em to the after party with god

I stroll the blocks with a dope man bop

I'm high caliber

My team shine supreme we gleam on you amateurs

I stay big sportin fedoras

Charcoal braid tweed sport coat jeans and diadoras

Ya'll niggas ain't really really ready for muhammad because I'm hungry

Grimey and grungy

I want ya mind fuck the money

Don't get me wrong, I want cream and all that

But if that's your only objective in rap you all wack

I make the untrue niggas head sweat like skull caps

Hall back launchin a bolo makin they skull crack

Singin them dull raps

Like that was hot shit

Shit, I was sayin that back in the 80s

When niggas was rockin emblems off the back of mercedes

On rope chains

Back when niggas thought of cookin rocks outta cocaine

I was hot then, a little poor nigga spittin the vicious

Flavor delicious poetic swift shit

I regulate in the ring like P. whitaker

One rhyme get rid a ya

I won't even consider ya

For battle

You schools on speed I'm full throttle

Used to be in clubs tossing chairs and cracked bottles

Ruckus and ra ra, made my rhymes my dekea

Livin leyenda, numer un contenda

Never let a day slip by without agenda

That's just a little due from farrakhan to remember

So ke capasa,

Representanto for el rasa

Niggas wanna step but they legs too short to salsa

You got courage I'll blast it out ya

Seriously doubt chya

Spit til ya blueprint is ripped, then re-route chya

Fucker