[Verse 1]

Woke up in the morning, wife’s griping and [bad word] There’s no Similac for the baby, no lights where we’re living
No food in the fridge, this the tightest position
I’m bout to lose my lid, get my sights on a victim
My way and type of living, this [bad word] has to change
Shut the [bad word] up, I ain’t fit to be a sperm donor snatch your chain [bad word] it, sell crack cocaine, I’m telling you [bad word] go rap for change
Alright, look I got your point, I want you to know
I’ll be back in a couple hours, it’s under control [bad word] out of the door straight feeling lost as [bad word] What the [bad word] am I gonna do? Steal an armored [bad word] 
I walk and [bad word] aimless as I fix me a plan
Then I bump into Damon selling sixty a gram
As I think sticking him up ain’t the wittiest scam
My gun clicks blam now I got his chips in my hand
 [bad word] x 2]

I feel selfish, think I’m gonna use my nine
I feel helpless, think I’m gonna lose my mind
Nobody else is here to help me stabilize
I feel helpless even when I pray to God

[Verse 2]

Now I’m patting him down trying to get all he got
With no thought process of someone calling up SWAT
With no thought process that I’m on my own block
It’s like no contest if I get caught up and locked
Stolen for gwap I need all the dough he had
As I’m searching through his jacket, what a police badge?
Now stop, no way man, he’s a cop?
My knees just lock, I can’t flee, I freeze in shock
My Reeboks won’t budge though I want em to move
My mind saying to my body [bad [bad word] out your shoes
Punching my tool I hear the sirens getting closer
Why’d I decide to ride with my toaster?
Usually I’m cool and calm with [bad word] Stupidly I lose my mind and say it’s over, it’s over
I take a breath, put my heater to my head
There’s no escaping death
 [bad word] x 2]

[Verse 3]

I sit down next to Damon, put my gun to my head
Thinking to myself all it takes is one and I’m dead
And the someone just said, “Stop, freeze, please don’t do it!”
I look up, see cop cars and some DT Buicks
All I see is a sea of blue, a bunch of guns drawn
With a man in a stance, in his hands a bullhorn
”I’m Officer Crout, wait, let’s talk this out.”
I reply, “What the [bad word] is there to talk about?”
”There’s plenty to talk about, it’s not as bad as you think.”
You don’t know the half man, you ain’t my dad and my shrink
In a blink my anger shifts from me to them
He can see I won’t feed into it and speak as friends
An evil [bad word] to my face, his eyes shocked [bad word] it, why not? I’d rather lie inside a box
Take my nine, aim it at them as time just stops
It’s not a suicide, man, but suicide by the cops

*Gunshots*