[Intro: Bronze]
Yeah! Still blowing these weeds
Yeah! Still in the grass, nigga!
Yeah! Detroit Gun Rule

[Bronze Nazareth]
Yo, born in the 12th month, angels felt cold, huh?
Word to my old pop, keep venom like the cobra
Grow wild in the open, to open bottles often
Drink my pain away, it felt like coffins
Cement often, rose just to spite me
Reality hit hard like Ike T
I’m on the porch shiesty
Blunted, middle finger to the police
Black hoody, when times get ugly, the street mad pretty
Handle my city with my palm, nigga I’m grown
“I gotta help keep the heat and the lights on” – (CEE-LO of Goodie Mob on “Thought Process”)
I’m flowing in but no money outta this microphone
I recite a war poem while jumping over obstacles
Same stanza have a stranger strangled vivid as Maya Angelou
Tangible rhyme animal, hungry to eat
Released on furloughs from my mind to follow God’s feet
I repeat like a broke record
Habits that choke Leopards
Lungs open like receivers
Sung open wounds closed like them old voodoo healers
While my niggas slammed on mausoleums
The nausea will keep you scratching at the coffin top
Causing gusts of poisonous wind drafts
That make the neighbors call the cops
32 flavors I drop, at the speed of a Feather
Get your shit broke like flower pots and Mayweather, nigga!

[Closeout: Floyd Mayweather (of Gun Rule) Quote]

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