Originally Posted by
J.T.S.
My hard grapple open tops like bottles of Snapple
No need for crack I cracked duke in his adam's apple
hands punched in rice speaking wisdom like drunken Christ
nigga act shiest face cut first followed by the mic, and lights
then we fleeing like a little ghetto boy from his mama's belt
we go to war every soldier on the other side received the welts
knowledge of self the key to wealth these bloodsuckers deceive themselves
with what was given a hard-ship of slaves still master oppressed
and they say their blessed but really possessed
by a book of lies that when spoken scriptures spook the eyes
it's like choking on puke and trying to make it rise