Dependent on things not seen in black and white Responsibility is a dying art form Everything is out of (gun) control "From my cold dead hands" you said
to start this My crew is bottomless Street Lobotomists Gun slingers Glock cocked and diamond ringers My nigga got shot but still alive Hustlers He took a full clip from
close But I got a buncha obstacles If it ain't my line of work it's the girlies on my popsicle Now everybody's got my baby Wantin' to have their hands in my
And I saw drops of blood on my shirt and I remember The doctors saying I was dead And then later they had to take blood out of my hand 'couse they ran
even know where to begin. Strapped down on my bed Feet cold, eyes red I'm out of my head Am I alive? or am I dead? Can't remember what they said God
ass shit Them ol? pussy ass niggas can suck my dick A cold back motherfucker from the 6 zone The same crippled motherfucker got picked on Now I ain't never
cold (Ah) I get cold Every night, night, night Without a prayer in my heart, heart, heart Oh, I get cold Yeah, I get cold Every night, night, night Without a prayer in my
embraces In his hands he pulls out two briefcases A picture popped up on computer One woman, one man, sharpshooter He asked you do you remember these
So I unwrapped the guards, but my scars never healed Sometimes stars align and some stars never will Like Ross and Jeezy both y'all my niggas, y'all should chill Instead of beefin', lets remember
top of grace From your cold hands and your dead eyes From your cold Hands I Cry I will never trust and label death as my only defense I will never trust
I ain't run(from who) Still I stand (yeah) No matter what VA here I am No matter what remember I ain't break(never), I ain't fold(never) They hate me
on time, my last thoughts forming the rhyme Got me running through the streets That reek of the dead, its more food to the wealthy My niggaz on welfare
, Inhale the stench of my nocturnal plunderm I'll never find piece in a cold, hard death bed, Until I have found the deadest of the dead... Your insipid
reave though crimson rivulets Weaving their cold and malignant minuets Carving out funereal figures in arcane alphabets Scars that will never heal or
all will be dead, but I never... dead will be! War!!! The force of my thoughts is invincible and my sword is nourished by blood from the time that
the D.O.C. Yeah, yeah, I have a secret plan New world connects and threatens man Other hand, everyone fake God light, neofight, spit On the cross from