...so I be locked into them lottery numbers, deposit them
five to six digits for now with one comma sitting
how we living together and ain't made decisions together
how our money's s'posed to mix when we ain't in business together
see, what you got for me for today? israel, am I real
or not, a bitch laughed in my face before I made her feel
the bar massacre, each delivery of my bars masculine
eleven six, eleven fifteen to two one five massacres
conflicting news reports changed the time up to non-accurate
look, stop with the nonsense, my coup de grace been racking up
the feast for the birds to eat from bones of quite a carnage
paradise done went down into flames, good luck defautling
point breeze done got lit up, ask caesar what's been up
I ain't finished yet until every last nigga here git up
on the words I construct my nine to eleven inchess
to fit brick-shit houses' ducts as odes to nine eleven victims...
you know how a whitie called nine one one on the final thoughts
of that nigga's brains blown out his skull by the police force
you know the course u.s. been on, the tour de force u.n.'s been on
my laws enforced divorce them, since I'm the source of their phenom
I'm working out the details, when I lock into one nineteen
of nineteen, the living conditions'd be set to oblige me...