Night Blows, Stoves don't work, Hoes at work
A warrior,soI wear 'em on myshirt
Wish I was free as Che was, I spend a day buzzed
Tripping on heights, wishing for Nikes in different flavors
The age of Kane and Big Daddy,shown by the caddies
Uncles named Larry, that really never grabbed me
My mother gave birth but she really never had me
Left to the hood to play daddy
Raised by nikkaz named Butch through the bay bay
With waists so they weigh they status on the streets
License plates that say they, motto This is Chicago in the hay day
Similar to Good Times, I guess that I was Jay Jay
A skinny nikka, young girls with penny figures
So many nikkaz, stacked upon each other
It's the black upon each other that we love so much
Wonder how many of us, these drugs gon-na touch
Used to gangbang, ain't really thug that much
Rather have some thick broads then the dutch to clutch
Went to school in Baton Rouge for a couple of years
My college career got downed with a couple of beers
anybody that can write a rhyme scheme like this is not overrated to me