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