Learned the power of words when we was younger
Saying fukk the sign on his curb can make him hunt you
Turned the African into a ****** then they hung him
Said it earlier in the verse, sometimes I wonder
Who the activist and who Devils advocate
Or do it matter? shyt
They only fukking with the rapper if the rapper rich
Or got a platinum hit
A chain or two
Seem the music interchangeable
Raging bull, what you headed for?
Heaven doors, or hell below
I write directions for the road to let you know
Edgar Allen Poe
Tried to warn 'em of demise and all he seen was crows
Feel for 'em, words, we kill for 'em
Leave the bytchin' to the birds, we still war'n
Born ready, you boys lost already
All in 'til the lord get me
