I'm at my wits end
somebody tell me where this skit ends
don't know where to go from here
feeling weathered like a split end
nothing worse than coming up short
feel like you bout to go on a cruise
and was late to the f**kin port
try my best to keep it straight
but i still here the hustle callin
cuz i got a callin for ballin
and i'm twice as sick as Stalin
if you want it come get it
just tell me which millimeter
riddle you full of holes
lost alot of blood u livin off a liter
before my final breath
i know I'm be one of the classics
my past is pain but I'm past it
i don't have thoughts
i have tactics
military mind
the realest dealer that youl ever find
i'm doin more with my lyrics
then just thinkin up a clever rhyme
reapers coming to get me
gazing at me with his death stare
i don't know where I'm going
but best believe I'm gonna get there
and i'ma do it wit a smile
frownin gets old after a while
pleadin guilty to my lifes sentence
cuz livin it's worth the trial
