.38

Been a slave to a game
Where your brain makes reality shake
You need to shave the jealousy from your face
Drowning in a wave of shame
I plea you pace your claims
Before you pay with the pain of angst
All it takes is a gun to aim
Run your mouth like you bang with gangs
You're a bloodsucker minus the fangs
A suicide note short of being hanged
Now exchange the slang
And abstain from cocaine

Only three eights
You ain't worth half the time
Backstabbers, grave diggers
I'll split ya spine
Spit slime, put a shovel on your mind
When you're thirty you'll be thinking
It's your prime

What a lack of rappin'
Only more backstabbin'
Soon as you turn, shoot, then ask
What happened
Laugh while you pass time
Use my boots
It's a favor to me, to let you rock my suit
Electric hot mood, jumpstart heart-full
Turned harmful
You're about to get your arm pulled
Lean to the speaker, where's the heat preacher
Oh, you mean that gun play is just a rap feature

Only three eights
You ain't worth half the time
Backstabbers, grave diggers
I'll split ya spine
Spit slime, put a shovel on your mind
Dirty. Still swine
But actin' like you shine

I got eyes like the government
Keep talkin' shit, I'm lovin' it
Who knew you thought about me
More than your mother did
I'm sonning him another kid
Running his gums
Empty clip, shaky
Not a steady grip
Bluffing with his tongue
You gave me an axe to grind
Get smacked for stepping out of line
I'm sharpening ya mind
Bet you're looking for a hidden message or pun
As you rerun from the Sceptics
This is For The Fake Ones