holdin a jar 2

my intelligence is money

my skin is the streets of new york

my arms and legs are it's fucked up bridges

the subways are the worms that come through my corpse

liberty

my bitch

fucking everyone

they cut my two middle fingers down but my dick is still standing

i walked into nasa

my pocket full of envelopes

and this chick swinging from my dick is into dope

like hi-jackin with no planes

it's harmless

way to shermed out to kick your fucking skull into your armpits

can't find a dime

what's the worst that could happen

cage got a knick for 8 millimeter action

no family man

even my daughter earning chasing after me with a fucking handy cam

flippin while i'm holdin a jar

tell me if i'm going too far

turn around i left some coke in the bar

can't waste the range premise on this fbi-secretary with tits unless she's a menace

see the liquid kids and streams of five on her

this is the minds blotter

paper-savior dipped in high blotter

and i'm more patriotic with the narcotic wrapped in the little flag in the back

i ain't tryna train the sane

i'm playing the game

like numbers scratched off a gun

they change your name

chase the past and get the violence to spread

got my arms in the dirt tryna silence the dead

even when you win you lose in the end

so i take acid out of my back and use it again

excuse me brother

why tap your spinal cord?

while open-mic emcees waste vinyl cords

for skin

your flesh is born from it

empty the clip in your toyota gs400

if you're too old to hustle

put the gun down

uncle

that's a nice vest with your head hangin from it's last muscle

go cop the album

keep me alive

and my functioning creative compartment will be downsized

beyond demise

it's high maintenence

looking for drugs with my hands crawling with agents

biological

with the hands on my nostril

can't get a vaccine with half the city in a hospital

all these doom-leaders

and their spoon-feeders

can take the young

and let them lose leaders

i ain't tryna train the sane

i'm playing the game

like numbers scratched off a gun - they change your name

chase the past and get the violence to spread

got my arms in the dirt tryna silence the dead