T HA F REAKSTYLAZ P OST A LBUM


| Primal~the Rap Achilles~ |

| 9. Life's A Pair Tho You're Alone |

born one man, one soul for the walk into death--
one point of view, one set of limbs, one talkin of breath--
at best the world is black and white, right or wrong, truth and lies--
according to the society of variety transpiring all truth and lies--
so you shoot this guy who said fuck you, your mother's a bitch--
you get harassed and locked up cuz you hustle and pitch--
the tussle was quick, 3 cops, and one was husky and thick--
one maced your face, the other two proceeded bussin your lip--
but you had the gun you killed a man wit in your house--
it's on the night stand next to where a man's puttin his drill in your spouse--
all the fiends are still out, and your main buyer stole your supply--
he smoked the coke, and all the weed got thrown in a pie--
you call your mom, but she just died on the numeral--
and you're locked up, and you might not make it to the funeral--
your bail is low, five thousands, but the cops went to your house--
found the gun wit your finger prints, the amount of bullets you spit out--
was perfect to their count, now your years get switched--
can't make bail, so then you let all the tears go drip--
here goes it, the mind takes a look back--
and you wish you didn't shoot that man face chest, hip, back--
it's sick that you coulda slapped or punched em--
tho you chose to cock back wit bullet accupuncture--
the facts gone haunt cha, the strip got you locked--
you wasn't pitchin but your priors gave search warrants to the cops--
so if you didn't stand on your block--
probably woulda caught homeboy slammin all his cock--
in your girl, rockin her world--
now your top's in a swirl--
cause your second call got you the news of the fiend--
who stole all your coke, weed, and deemed to really roast up your cream--
plus you hope it's a dream, that your mom croaked in her bed--
and your circumstance occured cuz you chose smoke him wit da lead--
that left you outside a second longer--
set a course of action of your one soul loner--
but had you not popped this man dead--
mighta ended your day wit cha hands smokin pipes, tabacco instead--

there are two choices
but only one outcome to be begotten
but it's which one to choose that's give you your one path

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